Crazy
by Phantom Ou
Summary: Being Führer Bradley, my life at work is sweet. But when I come home to an annoying wife and son, who is actually the evil Pride, my life pretty much sucks. And, unfortunately, the Homunculi and the Elrics are involved. Crazy things are bound to happen.
1. How Beer is My Savior

**Crazy - Chapter 1: _How Beer is My Savior_**

**Here is ****_Crazy_****! This is the beginning of a story you ain't ever seen before!**

**Warning: Pure and utter ****_crack_**** fic. The characters shall be immensely OOC at varying points. This is written for the purpose of alleviating my own boredom. Don't like, then here's an easy solution for you: don't continue to read.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

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><p><strong>WrathFührer Bradley's POV:**

People were under the impression that being Führer Bradley, the ruler of Amestris, you were an honorable and charismatic man who lived life in luxury. They would not be wrong. People believed that being the Führer himself would get you numerous benefits, and others loved and respected you. Why, of course that was true. So being a prodigious man that others revered, naturally, would make it seem as though I had a happy life. And that was pretty much true...

When I was at work.

But then I'd go home to _them_.

Yes, them: my wife, Mrs. Bradley, and my son, "Selim," whose real name was Pride but my wife was too stu—I mean, _ignorant_ to find out.

I had a wonderful and sweet life at work. People saluted to me, and I could do crap behind the big desk because, well, I sat on the throne and no one was allowed to scold me for anything. And, I enjoyed messing around with Colonel Roy Mustang. (I forced his favorite lieutenant, Hawkeye, to serve under me. He was so crushed, ahaha.)

But then, evening would set in, and I would return home—which was basically the most horrendous time of the day. My own wife was not as respectful to me compared to my employees, and she tended to torment me with random _chiz_. For instance:

"Oh, today, I went to the _store_ and bought _blah, blah, blah._"

On a typical basis, I would drown her out by popping open a beer and downing that sucker. Whenever she would continue to ramble on about her daily schedule, I would drink another one.

But, that was not the worst part.

No. The worst part would occur whenever she starts to talk about _Selim_. Once you got that ball rolling, she would not stop—like, oh, my Lord, I got it; he's cute. I got it; he could read a whole book by himself now. Blah, blah, blah. She would go on and on about how _adorable _and _polite _he was. And, how cuddly he was, which frankly, I could have lived my whole life without knowing _that_. Please, just shut up! But I couldn't say that to my own wife; my meddlesome servants were always damn present. So, as nice as I am, I would drink another beer. Haha.

At this, my wife would complain about how I drink to an excessive extent, and that my health was deteriorating because of that. Oh, please, my beer was my _savior_. She didn't know that the reason I _survived_ this long was because I drank to smother their noises. If I had no alcohol in my veins, I'd be dead a long time ago. Presumably twenty years ago when I had married her (but she didn't talk that much back then).

My wife usually forged a way to get back to conversing about Selim. The reason I was still hearing her meant I was not drunk enough.

But as I got up to reach for another beer, my wife said the "adorable" Selim drew a picture of the family today. I got it; he could draw stick figures. Whoo hoo. Honestly, I needed to have my beer right next to me; it was a stupid mistake to put it on a table across the room.

My wife blah blah blah'd for a whole minute—I know you're getting the impression that I hate her. I don't. She's my wife and stuff. But, she talks too goddamn much about useless things that I don't give two shits about.

Well, anyway, she called Selim, and little Pride trotted down the stairs with a picture in his small, shamefully feminine hands. _Oh, crap._ I popped open a fresh beer and downed it when he approached for his stupid "show and tell." They should make it illegal outside the boundaries of school.

Pride—no, _Selim_ grinned ear to ear and held up his picture of three stick figures holding hands with one another. "Look, Daddy! I drew a picture of our happy family!"

I leaned in for a closer look and grimaced. He drew me the tallest, and my neck was humongous and my head was a tiny circle. Damn, I needed to give this kid drawing classes, and some glasses because I'm sure as hell I do _not_ look like that. Handsome devils like me are not skinny as a stick with a dot as a face.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" My wife and son glanced at me in a hopeful manner, their eyes sparkling.

"No," I answered flatly.

As expected, my wife metaphorically pounced on me like a whiplash. She gasped, "How could you say that to our son?"

"'Cuz I'm not drunk enough to lie right now."

Pride mischievously shot me a smirk and then scrunched up his face, pretending to cry; what a little bastard. Seeing this, she attempted to console him by hugging him tightly. "Look what you did! You made our poor little Selim cry!"

"...So?"

My wife was infuriated, and she began fuming, smoke coming out of her ears and everything. "You know what? Don't even bother to sleep together with me! You're sleeping on the sofa tonight!"

Oh, thank goodness. I performed a quick prayer of gratitude. A whole night of peace with just my lovely companion, Beer.

So anyway, that was yesterday. Today, however, I was all giddy not only because I had a good night's sleep but because my new car arrived! It was the latest and sleekest version. (Told ya being the Führer got you benefits.) So, I was dying to take it out for a midnight spin, but then my wife spoke up and ruined my relaxing envisage.

"Guess what? I won two reservation tickets to a five-star restaurant!" my wife chimed joyfully. "That means we can go out on a date tonight."

Ooh, I didn't think I needed a beer so soon.

"Uh, you see..." I desperately searched through my mental receptacle to find an excuse to avoid this impending event. (I mean, a whole night with just her at a restaurant, which meant in _public_? A _date_? Sure, it was cute when we were young. But we're freakin' in our forties where you start to undergo some nasty changes once again.) I cleared my throat "...I don't know—"

At the moment, Selim returned home from school. (Wow, I never thought I'd be happy seeing him.) He entered the house and carelessly left the front door ajar. He greeted us, in which I ignored as per usual, and my wife grinned and inquired how his day was. Well, it was time for another beer.

But then, Selim stated something rather strange, "Mommy, I invited one or two of my friends over. Is that okay?"

We were both stunned, for different reasons.

"You have friends?" I blurted out, wholly astonished. That evil little kid, who secretly tries to get my wife furious with me, has _friends_? Pals, that he can hang with? Buddies who actually appreciate him, and have chosen to be around him _voluntarily_?

My wife slapped my shoulder disapprovingly. "Why, of course our little Selim has friends! He's such a nice boy." Ugh, "nice" must have had a separate, possibly opposite, definition these days; nobody forewarned me about that.

Cheerfully, my wife clasped her hands as if she was going to pray. "Of course you can bring them over, Selim! I'm so excited to meet them!"

Selim smiled at her and then announced, "You guys can come in now!"

And then, _they_ came in. The party consisted of _Lust, Gluttony, Envy, Greed _(and Ling; they're together in the same body—it's complicated), and _Sloth_ (somehow he fitted through the front door).

The Homunculi.

You don't know how close I was to a heart attack when I saw them. I was like psychic or whatever because I knew tragedy and suffering was destined to begin now.

"We need a place to crash for the night," Envy noted casually while stifling a yawn. "So you don't mind if we stay, right?"

_I mind. _But before I was going to blurt that out, I glanced over at my wife just in case. Shocked and horrified by their grotesque appearances, she struggled to maintain her expression to a bare minimum by pursing her lips. Apparently, she wasn't expecting these kind of "friends." Now, this was the chance of a lifetime!

"Selim," I said, "I thought you said it was only one or two friends. You gotta learn math." I pointed to Sloth. "He looks like four kids put together. And I'm not talking about those skinnyass kids that go 'oh hee hee' and play Ring Around the Rosie. I meant those kids that eat hamburgers and french fries for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and hourly snacks."

"But they need a place to stay, Daddy."

"These are kids from your school?"

"...Yes."

"Really?" I inspected all of them in a criticizing fashion. "They don't look like fifth-graders to me."

Pride blinked and studied the "friends" he brought over. "No... they're... fourth...?" Wow, his lies were getting more and more pathetic. I smugly grinned and was about to reveal his stupid little lie into the light, when my wife cut in.

"Selim," my wife started slowly, "can you introduce them to me?"

"Sure. This is Lust, Gluttony, Envy, Greedling, and Sloth." He gestured at each respective individual as he identified them.

My wife stared for a long while, and I had to wave my hand in front of her so that she could remember to blink. "...Those are some... interesting names."

"Yeah, what's wrong with your parents?" I asked curtly, and my wife slapped me on my shoulder again.

"Now, if they don't have a place to stay... then they don't have a place to stay."

"Why're you repeating yourself—"

"Anyway, that's that. We're of course courteous enough to provide rooms for their temporary residence," she finished. Although her mouth said one thing, her eyes said another; I detected a bit of reluctance there.

"Great. A sleepover," Greedling declared in a bored and indifferent manner.

My wife forced herself to smile. "Yes, it is. Okay, you all can stay—"

"Whoa, I didn't agree to it, woman!" I snapped. "And I'm the boss of this place! This is _my_ house!"

"They all can stay," she repeated through gritted teeth. "Feel poor for them!"

I gawked at the five Homunculi, trying to squeeze an ounce of pity for them out of my warm and generous heart.

Sloth's heavy-lidded eyes were barely wider than slits, as he was ready to fall asleep any second. Gluttony was scarfing down the bag of chips like his life depended on it. Lust stared at her manicured nails intently as though it was more interesting than the discussion of where she would be sheltered. Greedling was glancing around the room, mumbling to himself (probably to Ling, but was too embarrassed to actually speak aloud), and Envy had his hands behind his head in a lackadaisical manner, yawning yet again.

They appeared pretty carefree to me. Glaring at the Homunculi, I muttered, "I ain't feeling nothing. Tell me how you don't have a house to stay in. Your parents kicked you out? Notice, everyone, how I don't look surprised."

"Honey, stop being rude!" my wife scolded with a censuring frown. Leave it up to her to say sweet, lovey-dovey nicknames at a time like this.

Envy, Lust, and Greedling snickered quietly. "_Honey_," Envy repeated and made kissy faces at me.

"Ugh, boy. I'm damn glad my eyesight ain't so hot."

"Anyway, you can stay," my wife benignly assured, "since I believe it's very convenient. My husband and I are going out on a date this evening—"

The Homunculi started guffawing sardonically to one another. The problem was Sloth, as slow as he is, laughed like: "Ha... Ha... Ha." So, it kinda killed the hysterical moment for them.

"—and we'd like Selim to have company. You know, for someone to watch over him."

Envy nodded wisely, cupping a hand under his chin as if he was deliberating something. "Don't worry. We'll take care of little 'Selim.' I'd pick him up, spin him around like a little princess"—he paused to apply a dramatic effect—"and toss him in a trash can."

"I heard that. Up top," I said, and we high-fived.

"Bradley!" my wife chastised my not-very-fatherly support. She reverted her attention back to the Homunculi. "Please, do not misbehave during our absence. And, if you don't mind, I would like to give you each some constructive criticisms."

_Here we go. _Her passing of judgment initiated with Greedling, who she smiled warmly at. "Well, except for you. I currently don't have a problem with you."

Envy sneered contemptuously, "Mommy's kid."

Nonchalantly, Greedling replied, "Don't be so _envious_, Envy. Everyone just naturally love me."

"Sorry, but I'm not 'everyone,'" Envy shot back with a disdainful glare.

"First, you," my wife addressed to Sloth, pinching him to a wake, "do not fall asleep all the time." The moment her compression on his skin was released, Sloth fell asleep again. Whoo, that was different.

She maneuvered to Gluttony. "You should cut down on the eating and try some fruits and vegetables!" She snatched the bag of chips from his hand and thrust him a ripe apple. He shrugged and simply swallowed it in a flash, much to her speechless amazement.

My wife hastily moved on to Envy. "And you. Would it kill you to tie your hair or to get a haircut?" Envy scowled, and the rest of us chortled at him and his palm tree-ish hair.

Finally, she went to Lust. "And you. Decent girls should not wear so much revealing clothing." She grabbed a leather coat from a hook and placed it on top of Lust's bosom, and we groaned in response. Great, the highlight of my day was covered.

After imposing her decrees, my wife stood back to admire her brief and swift work. "Okay, wonderful. Now you can—"

"Wanna see my room?" Selim suggested. No one really wanted to, I could tell, but the Homunculi were searching for a way to escape from Mrs. Bradley. Hence, they complied eagerly and ran up the stairs. In fact, Selim didn't even check to see if they agreed and was the first one to zip free.

The moment that they disappeared, I settled into my favorite living room chair, relaxing and drinking my beer. I was reading and enjoying the funnies in the newspaper, when my wife interrupted.

"Honey."

"Dammit, woman, I'm reading the funnies so shush it."

"No! This is important!" she claimed. She lowered her voice into a whisper as she prattled while anxiously looking up the stairs. To me, whatever she was saying sounded like this: "..." along with hushed breaths.

I scowled, exasperated. "Woman, dammit, why are you freakin' whispering? I can't even hear you!"

She sighed and increased the volume of her voice, "I'm worried for Selim—"

_Chug, chug, chug!_ I began to drink my beer as fast as I could.

"Those friends of his... They don't seem like they will be such a good influence on him."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Can you go upstairs and check what they're doing?"

"Why can't _you_?"

"Please!" she begged, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes—which seriously stopped looking good the second she hit her thirties. "Please! Please! Please!" Man, she was like a broken record, but worse because you can't punch it and expect it to shut up.

"Oh, fine," I relented to the insufferable pleads. "Just shush it." Tediously, I trudged up the stairs, while yearning to be able to finish perusing the funnies section (which was the only section that I read in the newspaper). If I don't listen to her, she will never cease her pestering.

When I reached the front of Selim's door, I paused stealthily. I waited for an interval of five seconds, and my hand gripped the doorknob in preparation. And then BAM, I swung it open!

"Ah, ha!"

The Homunculi were gathered in a circle just _staring _and _blinking _at one another, having nothing to say. They gazed up at me when I had barged in with hopes of catching them in a culpable act. My "ah, ha" suddenly seemed very lame and awkward for me.

"Uhh," I muttered, twitching, "jeez, calm down, you party animals. Ah, ha... Ha." I closed the door and descended the stairs with haste; motion helped to ward off the embarrassment.

"So what happened?" my wife immediately questioned when I appeared into sight.

I informed, "They were just staring at each other like a bunch of no-lives."

"Really?" She looked relieved. "Well, that's good! We can go on that date right now, and I won't be worried."

"But... I wanna take my new car out on a spin!" I complained fretfully, adding a roll of my shoulders.

"That's a pity; I already rented a limo to come pick us up."

"Dammit, woman, you keep spendin' my money for us. I wanna spend it for me!"

"Just come on," she urged and ushered me to the front door. "Let's go have a romantic date!" _Ugh. _My wife then heightened her voice so that it may be extended to the floor above us. "Kids! We're leaving now!"

"Yeah, go ahead!" Envy shouted back. "We'll just be here staring at each other!"

"Have fun!" my wife chimed, despite how ridiculous Envy's sentence was. Soon after, we both ventured to the parked limo waiting outside. I looked back at my stately mansion. _Be safe._But then again, the Homunculi weren't doing anything, so it will be safe. I did not have to worry at all.

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><p>"I did not have to worry at all"—I must have had a brain-fart for thinking that.<p>

After three abhorrent, goddamn boring hours of her pouring her _thoughts _and _feelings _to me while I was trying to freakin' eat, she finally opted to go home. I was hungry though, albeit returning from a restaurant. She doesn't know that her blabbering on and on makes it hard for me to swallow anything but beer.

Anyway, I was excited about going home to take my new car for a ride. I had a dangerous impulse to climb in the car and drive... and drive... and never come back.

But then, the limo dropped us off at my mansion. Or where my mansion was _supposed_ to be.

In its place was a huge pile of rubble and ashes, due to a catastrophic fire by the looks of it. And there _they _were, standing in the middle, while wearing awe-struck countenances as if they were bewildered themselves.

For some reason, Pride was wearing _make-up_, Lust was _electrocuted_ and her hair was in an Afro (she was soooo unattractive to me right now). Greedling was mostly buried while _alive_, Envy was _bald_, and Gluttony was _naked _(God forbid my greatest fear had come true; a horror that I could not _un_-_see_). Sloth—that bastard in the driver's seat—drove my _brand new car _into the house, destroying it in the process! And, somehow, _Edward Elric_ was also here, dressed up as _me_, with an eye-patch and everything.

_. . ._

**HOW THE F*CK DID THIS HAPPEN!?**

Cripes, I needed another beer.


	2. It All Comes Tumbling Down

**Crazy - Chapter 2: _It All Comes Tumbling Down_**

**This chapter is to explain what happened the last chapter when the Homunculi were alone. Here is an advice: No one should take these chapters seriously. Harhar.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

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><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

The moment when I saw my mansion destroyed, I was utterly devastated. But since I was a young child, I was always taught to look at the bright side of things. And, there was only one thing that was favorable right now.

I slowly unsheathed my awesome, jewelry encrusted sword, pulling it out in a melodramatic manner. My wife was saying something really long, fast and confusing to me, but I didn't care. Because now I finally had a reason...

...to kill that friggin' Selim! Bwahahaha!

"AAAAAAHH!" I charged toward the Homunculi and Edward. The more casualties there may be, the more it would cheer me up.

The Homunculi and Edward screamed, when they saw me rushing toward them in such a violent and daunting fashion. They all dove in different directions like dolphins.

"You!" I accused.

They faltered backwards. "Us..."

I raised my voice. "You!"

They lowered theirs. "...Us..."

"YOU!"

Then, I felt a sharp tug on my arm. "Bradley!" my wife gasped, ruining the little back and forth thing we got going on.

"Dammit, woman! Don't stop me now while I'm on my heroic charge!" I yelled. "I'mma kill them! I'mma slice them to tiny little pieces! Look what they did! I'mma kill them!"

"You don't mean Selim, too, right?" she asked hopefully.

"Shit, are you kiddin' me! He's gonna be the first one to go! Didn't you see how I had my sword so low? I was aiming for his head!"

She somehow managed to roll up a newspaper and whacked me with it on the head. "Calm down! We have to access this situation calmly—"

"_Calmly_? You damn blind or what? Look around you! WE HAVE NO HOUSE!"

"It's not worth killing them!" my wife protested.

I blinked at her, then spoke in a deadpanned voice, "Haha, you're funny."

"I'm not joking! It's not worth it! Let's let them explain it to us!"

"Y-yeah, we can explain," Envy stammered hastily.

"Explain it to my ass while I'm suffocating you with it!" I screamed, and my wife whacked me again. "Dammit, woman, you gotta stop waving that thing around!"

My wife took a breather and looked at each and every one of them ugly people. She, at last, settled on Pride and inquired _gently _and _kindly _(oh, my Lord, stop it), "Selim, what happened?"

I intervened, "Goddammit! They burned the house down and played dress-up with each other! Put the pieces together, woman!"

"Dress-up?"

"Yes, dress-up! I mean look at him!" I pointed to Pride. "He's wearing _make-up _with eye-liner and mascara and all that crap! Woman, you were always nagging to me about wantin' a girl. Well, here ya go." I pushed that brat to her.

Next, I turned my attention to Lust and glared at her aggravating Afro. "And she's dressed up like an ugly-ass witch!"

"Hey!" Lust cried.

"Oh, so _now_ you greet me!"

"What? I wasn't even—"

"And you!" I snarled at Gluttony. "Do us all a favor and cover that dangling thing between your legs! It's friggin' disturbing!"

The chubby Homunculus peered down in a curious manner, trying to look past all the fat in his stomach to see what I was talking about.

"How is it disturbing?" Envy challenged. "Don't you have one, too?"

"You know what, boy, you're the most annoying out of all!" I barked. "So why don't you act like your hair and _disappear!_"

Envy gasped, and Ed stifled a snicker.

"What? You think it's funny, Fullmetal?" I snapped at him. "Why're you wearing my clothes, boy? It doesn't even fit a pipsqueak like you!"

I must have sparked a flame in that Fullmetal because he started to rage and shout about his height, spitting death threats at me. Undaunted, I plainly stepped up and ripped the eyepatch from his face. "And gimme this back, fool! It's mine!"

Subsequently, I glared vicious daggers at Sloth who was sleeping in my damaged car. "And why is my car ruined? I didn't even get to ride in it yet! The only thing I approve of is Greedling being buried alive! That's some creativity you people have right there. Now I wish I can make graves for each and every one of you just like that!"

My wife covered Pride's ears. "Don't say these kind of crude things in front of our little Selim!"

"Oh, _shut up_, woman!"

She ignored me and turned to Selim. "Tell me, dear, what happened here?"

Now, people, was I the only irritated with her or what? "Stop asking goddamn stupid questions! A better one would be: _how_ did this happened? Dammit, now I have to be your teacher or somethin'?"

"Stop being rude!"

"Rude? You're lecturing me about keeping your damn manners when they're the one who _burned the house down_?"

"We can still settle this properly," she argued, with her lips pressed together as if she was resisting the urge to shout.

"With a nice beating and spanking you mean."

"No! With reasoning."

I stared at her for a long time, granting her the opportunity to correct herself and say something smart for once. When that didn't happen, I muttered, "Wow. You know what? You wanna be the 'reasonable' parent? Fine. Go ahead and ask them questions. I'mma settle for another beer."

True to my words, I proceeded across the house (there were no more walls), and to the shed. I fetched a beer from my emergency supply, went back and sat on the ground. Artfully popping the lid open with a flick of my thumb, I began drinking it.

"Really?" my wife murmured with disbelief, her eyebrows raised. "That's all you going to do?"

"Mm-hmm."

My wife rolled her eyes and faced Pride with a sigh. "Okay, so _how _did this happen? Tell me, Selim."

"Okay," he replied obediently. "This was what happened—"

"This was _how _it happened!" I pointed out.

"Oh, shut up," Pride retorted, which caused my wife to gasp, and he quickly corrected himself: "I mean... please don't interrupt me, dear _Father._ This was _how_ it happened..."

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><p><strong>PrideSelim Bradley's POV: (earlier today)**

Wrath and his wife left the house, leaving us to stare at each other. It was actually very unnerving. Greedling tried to make the atmosphere less awkward by attempting a meek conversation. After peering around the room, he stupidly asked, "So, this is your room, Pride?"

"Yes."

"Nice bed. You bought it at, uh, um, that one store...?"

"You mean that store that sell mattresses?"

"Uh, yeah! That store... that sell mattresses! That store... Yeah, that one." Notice how he kept repeating his damn words; it was so exasperating. "So you bought it there?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

And that was pretty much it. Then, Sloth spoke up, "Me... want to try out car! Cool car outside—"

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><p><strong>Wrath's POV: (present time)<strong>

"I hate where this is going," I muttered, and my wife shushed me, allowing Pride to continue.

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><p><strong>Pride's POV: (earlier today before Wrath stupidly interrupted)<strong>

Everyone ignored Sloth and his slow ramblings as usual. Silence swiftly ensued, but that was short-lived. Someone unleashed a fart, and immediately, everyone pointed at, well, basically everyone.

"It cannot be me," Lust claimed. "I do not produce 'farts.' Beautiful women like me do not fart."

Greedling frowned. "That's your reason? Because you're 'beautiful'?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, now I'm getting suspicious. Everyone point at her!" All hands except Envy's switched to point at Lust.

In the meantime, Envy, blatantly disgusted, clapped a hand over his nose while jabbing his finger at Gluttony in an accusing manner. "Eww! The smell is coming from him! It friggin' stinks! You friggin' stink, Gluttony!"

"I do?"

Envy impatiently slapped the back of the fat Homunculus' head. "Who're you marrying to, you idiot! Of course you stink! And not only because of the fart! When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Uhhh..." Gluttony started, trying to count on his fingers, and then he surprisingly announced, "2163 days ago."

We retreated from him, grimacing. "Ewwww!" Envy shouted, pinching up his face to accentuate his revulsion. "That's disgusting! You must be growing fungus at this time!"

In response, Gluttony frowned, acknowledging that he was insulted for the first time. "So? When's the last time you cut your hair? When the dinosaurs still roamed?" Envy's mouth was agape, and the rest of us were sort of impressed by Gluttony's unexpected comeback. He earned himself a little of my respect. Only a _little._

"Wow, since when did you turn witty?" Greedling questioned incredulously. "You used to be so dumb—"

Gluttony clenched his fists in a hostile fashion (whoa, Gluttony angry?). "And since when did you turn homo, Greed? You have Ling inside you all the time! Didn't you always saying something about wanting everything in the world? Well, you must want girls _and _boys!"

We snickered, and Greedling bellowed, "I'mma kill you and chop you up into fatass pieces!" While Greedling chased after Gluttony, we followed, but I was sure not to speak up at this time and provoke Gluttony—he might have something to use against me.

Soon, after a bit of a brawl, Greedling gained the upper-hand and he furiously tied Gluttony like a package, his intent to kill evident. But then, his eyes began to water, much to our astonishment.

"Are you crying, Greedling?" I asked and patted his back, somewhat consolingly. (Actually, I used my _shadows_ to pat his back. Like hell I was going to touch him. Ew.) "It's okay, Greedling. Let it out. We know you love Gluttony." The Homunculi and I chuckled derisively to ourselves.

"N-no! It's just... Gluttony's stink is really strong!" Greedling remarked, coughing. "Dude, if I'm gonna kill 'im, I need 'im clean first!"

Lust smiled. "This is my profession then. Let's give Gluttony a makeover."

"Ew. What? Why?" we all asked at the same time... using the same words...

"'Cuz we're bored anyway. Don't try to act like we have better things to do."

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><p>We entered the bathroom and gathered around the sleek bathtub. Gluttony was curiously looking at each on of us to study our expressions, presumably wondering why he was brought in here.<p>

"So..." Greedling addressed Gluttony. "Get naked first."

"Ew! You homo! I'm not gonna strip!" Gluttony cried in disgust, and Greedling appeared as though he was about to choke the life out of him, with his eye twitching and everything.

Lust glanced at her nails in an idle and apathetic manner. "Well, someone has to strip him."

"Not me," I quickly voiced (usually the last to deny was stuck with the job). "That's below me to strip someone like him."

"Not me either," Envy said. "I already suffered enough in my lifetime— Hey, where's Sloth?" The rest of us gazed around the bathroom to see that Sloth had indeed vanished. Envy then waved the topic away, "Ah, who cares?"

Greed returned to the topic at hand, "Well, I'm definitely _not_ gonna strip him!" Suddenly, Ling took over with a big grin on his face, "And I'd be happy to!"

We all took a step back from him but didn't argue because he was the forever sole and only volunteer. Ling hummed happily as he removed Gluttony's garments, and naturally, we looked away, not wanting to experience the horror.

After a while, Gluttony was finally bare.

"So now what?" Envy asked.

Lust sighed and stared at her nails. "Gluttony, jump in the bathtub and wash off."

"No, don't wannu!"

She ignored him and continued staring at her nails. And then she felt her hair and glanced in the mirror. "Oh, gosh, I need to take a shower."

We gawked at her. "Aren't you gonna do something about Gluttony?" I questioned.

"What? I already tried," Lust muttered, staring at her nails again. "Oh well."

Envy snapped, "You may be able to endure the stink but the rest of us can't! And stop staring at your nails! What's already ugly would remain ugly! You can't zap it to beautiful just by staring at it!"

Lust glared at him. "I know that; I tested it out on you. I've been staring at you, but you still remained the same! Ugh."

We snickered. Envy put his hands up, scoffing, and settled near the window.

"So who's gonna make Gluttony take a bath?" Greed asked, apparently having taken over control again. "To do that, we need someone stubborn, hot-tempered, and violent... Envy, you sure you don't wanna give it a shot?"

"No!" Envy shouted, before he smirked and pointed out the window, obviously satisfied with his view. "But I just located a little sucker that walked by this way who can help."

And from below, someone shouted, "WHO'RE YOU CALLING A 'LITTLE' SUCKER, YOU BASTARD!"

Envy grinned at us maliciously. "That's right: Edward Elric."

* * *

><p><strong>Edward Elric's POV:<strong>

So Winry and Pinako had recently moved to Central, since Winry got a new job here and everything. I was taking an evening stroll and was planning to go visit them when the Homunculi opened the Führer's front door. They smiled hugely and beckoned for me to come in.

How very suspicious. I grimaced. "Ew. No."

"Aw, don't be shy," Envy said.

"No, but I'll be sick."

Envy then sighed, theatrically performing a shrug, and glanced over at the Homunculi companions. "I knew it. He's scared. We got a surprise for him and everything, but he's too chicken to come in. He's a _little, short_ chicken—"

I ran over and jumped, my foot connecting to Envy's face. The impact blew him backwards and against the living room sofa.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING A LITTLE, SHORT CHICKEN, YOU SON OF A—"

Envy leaped from the ground and charged. He slammed me to a wall inside the mansion, and a few photos fell from their places and broke. "Don't push me like that again, you pipsqueak!"

Enraged, I screamed, "I'M NOT A PIPSQUEAK!" Flipping from my position, I brought up my automail leg and swiped it against his cheek, and he crashed into the shelf.

"I'MMA KILL YOU!" Envy shouted and lunged toward me—

Shadows dove in between us, and we yelped and jumped back. Pride glared at both of us, coolly. "Don't act like kids."

"At least we don't look like one," Envy retorted and then sneered at me. "Well, at least _I_ don't look like one."

"YOU—"

The shadows intervened again and nearly sliced off Envy's and my neck if we hadn't dodged in time.

"You tried to kill me!" Envy shouted, alarmed, and gripped his neck as if to determine if it was still in its proper place. After asserting that it was, he attacked Pride, but the latter simply shielded himself with his shadows. Envy, however, was able to land a _tiny _cut on his cheek, and he was satisfied.

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV: (present time)<strong>

"They started fighting," Selim told his mommy. "So I tried to be a good boy like you taught me, Mommy. I had to do something! I tried to stop them, but then that mean Envy hit my cheek!" He pointed to a cut that I couldn't even see.

But of course, my wife, as gullible as she was, gasped and hugged her little Selim.

"Oi, if you heard something along the lines of gagging, choking, barfing and puking chunks..." I began, "it was from me."

My wife ignored me. "So, Selim, what did you do to Envy?"

"You told me to never to hit a person, so I forgave him and gave him a gentle pat in a back, telling him to not do that again."

* * *

><p><strong>Envy's POV: (earlier today)<strong>

Suddenly, Pride's shadows pinned me to the ground, and he _slammed_ his foot on my back, nearly breaking it. "Don't you ever do that again!"

"You—"

"So Ed," Pride started, having chosen to neglect me. "Do us a favor. We need you to wash Gluttony—"

"Ew! No!"

Greedling muttered, "So we all share the same reaction..."

"Are you sure?" Pride inquired in a sly manner. "I heard that if you put your effort in scrubbing, you can grow taller."

Ed perked up instantly. "Really?"

"Uh-huh."

He contemplated it for a moment, before declaring, "Fine. I'm in!"

Pride removed his foot from my back, whispering, "Nailed it."

I scoffed at him while rubbing my painful spine. "You're lucky Ed's stupid. I'mma get you back for this, you watch!"

So then, Ed bathed Gluttony. We snickered while Ed scrubbed him furiously with a sponge. On several occasions, he bellowed and punched the unhappy Gluttony to settle down.

"Hey, you missed a spot," I proclaimed.

"Where?"

"His armpits."

The Homunculi cracked up, as Ed scowled and lifted Gluttony's arms to scrub them with soap.

"No, stop it! Stop touching me!" Gluttony howled although it sounded so wrong.

Ed belligerently kicked his face. "Stay still, you creep! STAY STILL!" Gluttony continued to angrily thrash about in the small tub, inciting large waves of water that splashed and soaked Ed from head to toes. "Dammit!" he cursed. "I'm all wet!"

Lust grimaced. "Okay, ew. Go change to something and I'll handle the rest of the makeover."

"Fine..." Ed walked outside to where we were at.

"Don't wear my clothes," Pride promptly stated.

Ed blinked. "Then whose should I wear?"

"My mother's dress. It'll suit blonds like you." The Homunculi chortled at this.

"Hell no, creep! Guess I'll just have to borrow the Führer's clothes..."

* * *

><p><strong>Edward Elric's POV:<strong>

I wore on the Führer's huge and baggy clothes, and I was surprised that they were actually comfortable. Bored, I foraged through the guy's closet, skipping past the "I must kill Selim" letters he kept. That was when I noticed a polished box that looked significant, tucked surreptitiously behind a torrent of clothes. On its lid, there was a note that read: _Do not look through_.

All right! Time to look through!

I retrieved the box—or rather, rescued it from the suffocation of garments—and opened it to reveal a bewildering number of eyepatches. Each of them was placed neatly and accordingly; very organized and stuff. There were, like, tens of them. Perhaps, even more in this box.

"Hey, guys! Come in and see!"

The Homunculi approached, except for Lust and Gluttony—who were still in the bathroom—and Sloth at who-knows-where. "What?"

"Look! A whole mess of eyepatches!" I took one and put it over my eye, imitating the Führer, earning myself a few astonished whispers. "He even separated them in correlation to the days of the week. These are the Mondays, the Tuesdays..."

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV: (present time)<strong>

My wife asked, "How do you have so many eyepatches?"

"Dammit, woman, there was a four for one sale! I'd be stupid not to buy them! But, that's not the point right now!" I glared at the Homunculi and Ed, pugnaciously. "You looked through my dear collection? They are the most important things to me!"

"Excuse me?" my wife challenged.

"Didn't you hear me? THEY ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS TO ME!"

"Hello? Is there anything else that's important to you?"

"Oh, yeah, huh, my beer."

* * *

><p><strong>Lust's POV: (earlier today)<strong>

I remarked, "Okay, now, Gluttony. You have to get dry. And then, we will move on to mani-pedi."

"No!" the chubby Homunculus whined fretfully.

"Yes, Gluttony! Now, get dry! My patience is thinning!"

"No," he repeated, crossing his arms to express his indignation.

"Use the towel. And, get out of the bathtub!"

"No."

Irritated, I snatched the blow dryer from the sink. "All right then, suit yourself!" I turned it on to its maximum power and blasted it at Gluttony's face. Squealing, he squirmed to escape, to no avail since he was enclosed in the tub. So instead, that bastard pushed me.

"Aah!"

My balance crumbled, and I started to fall into the bathtub with the blow dryer that was still on—

"Noooo!" I cried out dramatically, in slow motion.

Then, I crashed into the water, engulfed by its liquid realm. The blow dryer, in contact with the water, kindled scathing jolts of electricity that spread throughout my body.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

><p><strong>Envy's POV:<strong>

We heard a rather manly scream from the bathroom and casually walked over to its owner. When we entered, we saw a stunned Lust, crisp and burnt, with a crazy mess of an Afro and black soot marring her skin.

So, we did what could only be done at the moment:

We laughed. Duh.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" I barked out, howling with laughter, and pointed at Lust. "Look at your face! It's so effin' ugly! You know, it was always ugly, but this is _hideous_!"

Lust was absolutely infuriated, and she fumed, "It's stupid Gluttony's fault! He pushed me in the water— H-hey, I don't look _that _bad, right?" She worriedly inspected herself in the mirror.

We merely bellowed a louder laugh and praised the brilliance of the fat Homunculus, "Nice job, Gluttony!"

"Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no!" Lust cried, desperately trying to comb out her Afro with her fingers. "Oh, no, oh, no! Dammit! My beauty! No!"

Snickering, we allowed for the witch to melt with horror, and stalked out of the bathroom. Gluttony trailed after us, having no clue of what he did.

"So what now? So much for the makeover, right?" Greed commented, as we made it down to the living room.

Pride yawned tiredly and lay down on one of the sofas. "I will go to sleep; don't bother me."

"Oh, is it Mommy's boy's bedtime already?" I mocked, but that irksome Pride ignored me and fell asleep.

Greed noted, "Well, it is, like, one o' clock in the morning. I'm going to sleep, too."

And soon, they all fell down like a bag of potatoes and snored. Even Ed stayed to sleep, snuggling in the Führer's clothes. I, on the other hand, did not even feel the slightest bit sleepy. So, I settled on the sofa proportional to Pride's, and had a stare-down with the wall.

Akin, Lust descended the stairs, patently still ugly. I snickered, but she refused to acknowledge my presence, preoccupied with applying make-up to improve her appearance—even though it was horrid beyond repair. I shot her a dirty look and stood up, groaning at my painful back.

_Oh, that's right. That little Pride stepped on it earlier... Bastard. I swear to get even..._

An idea manifested in my mind. I went over to Lust and reached for her make-up kit.

"What are you doing?" Lust demanded. "You man-lady."

"Shut up, butt-ugly bitch." She gasped, and I shooed her, stealing the make-up. Then, I squatted near Pride and took an eyeliner pencil out of the pouch zealously. "Ahahahaha!"

This piqued Lust's interest, and she propped beside me. "Hey, add some blush to his cheeks. I'll handle the lipstick."

I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. "Are you sure you're on my side?"

"Of course, Envy! How could you doubt me! I hate you, but I hate Pride more. That brat."

"Well, all right then."

* * *

><p><strong>Lust's POV:<strong>

I'm on his side, my ass. No one was on my side _and_ they called me an ugly witch. I'm BEAUTIFUL!

Yeah, well, anyway, Envy finished up putting make-up on Pride, while I silently observed. Once he was finished, he went to sleep. After double-checking, I concluded that he was wholly unconscious and indecorously sneered to myself. _Ah, ha. Time for my plan to take its place!_

I shook Pride. "Hey," I whispered. "Pride, wake up."

Pride groaned and sat up, with a bitter expression on his face. "What do you want?"

"Shh!" I shushed him, looking behind me to verify that Envy was still sleeping. "Promise me you won't scream, but look in the mirror." I retrieved a handheld mirror from my pouch and let him examine himself.

Startled by what he perceived, Pride gasped, with his eyes widening and everything. It was very satisfying to choke out a reaction from him. "Who did this to me?"

"Envy," I informed. "He stole my make-up pouch, and when I discovered it so, he was already finished putting make-up on you."

Pride seethed. "_Envy_, huh?" He glared at the sleeping Envy on the ground.

_Ah, ha~ Adiós, Envy! I'll let you two kill each other. I love myself! Lots of hearts!_

"I'mma get back at him," he declared, jumping down from the couch, and he stormed into the bathroom.

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

I rummaged through the drawers, until my hand clasped around the razor. I chuckled darkly to myself.

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV: (present time)<strong>

"We were all sleeping," Pride explained to my wife. "I went to the bathroom and, you know, I don't remember but somehow I was holding onto a razor; it wasn't intentional. So I was walking back into the living room where everyone else was—but I couldn't see in the dark."

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV: (earlier today)<strong>

Hmph! The dark benefited me just fine; I was, like, a shadow-pro so I knew what I was talking about. With a bit of light for my shadows to materialize, the scope of my vision extended to every nook and cranny of the room.

Anyway, there was that devious Envy snoring on the ground. I deliberately tiptoed toward him, with the razor in my right hand. Bringing it to his skull, I began to _shave _off all of his hair.

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV: (present time)<strong>

"I was walking with the razor," Pride explained. "I told you I can't see in the dark, _so_ I tripped over Envy, and my razor touched his head then his whole hair came off. It was an accident!"

"YOU LIE!" Envy screamed. "LIAR, LIAR, LIAR! DON'T BELIEVE HIM!"

"Who would?" I remarked, drinking my lovely beer.

"Oh, honey, if it's an accident, it's okay!" my wife cried, and she hugged Pride.

"I spoke too soon," I muttered. "Dammit, woman, you're stupid. He's a dumbass liar. I mean who trips and shaves someone bald in one swipe? Damn, he must have gotten up and fallen back down on Envy like twenty times."

She ignored me ('cuz I had a brilliant point), allowing for Pride to continue, "And then, Envy woke up. I tried to tell him it was an accident, but he wouldn't listen!"

* * *

><p><strong>Envy's POV:<strong>

I heard a strange, buzzing sound against my scalp which lured me back to the state of consciousness. I opened my eyes, only to see Pride grinning iniquitously with a razor in his possession. Soon after, I felt a nice breeze on my head...

My hands instinctively gripped my skull.

_Nothing._

"YOU SHAVED ME?" I bellowed, and he, unfazed by my rage, just continued to smile happily.

At this point, people were waking up, and eventually, all of their eyes lingered at the top of my head. Immediately, they chortled at my baldness—especially Ed and that Lust chick.

"Now you and Gluttony can be twins," Greed pointed out between his laughs.

"SHUT UP! DAMMIT, PRIDE! F*CK YOU! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

I lunged at him.

Pride 'hmph'ed haughtily and dodged to the side.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Greed voiced loudly. "Just noticed something... Pride, did you do something different your face? 'Cuz, you got a little sumthin' sumthin' like... everywhere."

Pride stiffened, while the other Homunculi and Ed acknowledged the make-up. They began to crack up hysterically. The sense of victory lifted my ego very graciously, and I pointed at Pride in a triumphant manner. "AHAHAHA! That's what you get, little _girl_, for stepping on my back!"

Greed raised his hands for attention. "Hey, hey, look, guys... Pride, you should join the Little Miss Japan's pageant, and Envy, your head is shiny. All right, _now_ you two may kill each other."

Pride glowered at me nefariously, apparently pissed off, and his shadows attacked me. I had to duck in order to escape their murderous intent. I then charged at him at full speed, while the other Homunculi and Ed cheered. About half of them voted for me and the other half rooted for the evil little brat (including that Lust traitor)!

I sidestepped all of his shadows and approached him swiftly, aiming for his neck. "I'MMA KILL YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!"

Pride smirked and parried my attack, causing me to trip over Gluttony. I almost recovered from the loss of balance, but then Lust purposely stuck out her foot to trip me again. I fell into the kitchen, my head colliding against the sink.

Their laughs amplified, which provoked me. "Oh, you're going to get it!" I cried and snatched the coffee and beer from the kitchen counter and splashed them at Pride (and basically everywhere around him).

That got him good.

He was soaked and enraged. We proceeded to attack each other with maybe a little wrestling included.

But then...

"Hey, what's that smell?" Gluttony asked all of a sudden.

"That's just you!" I said, while shoving Pride.

"No," Gluttony disagreed. "This is different. A crispy smell... like barbeque."

We hesitated and sniffed, and sure enough, there was this odd, smoky smell in the air. We all turned to its direction and realized that there was a _fire_ starting within the television, because it was drenched with coffee and beer...

It took us two seconds to process it.

"AHHHH!" we cried and jumped back, panicking at the growing fire.

"Do something!" I yelled.

"U-um, u-uh," Lust stammered and hastily grabbed bottles, hurling their contents at the fire.

It grew_ tremendously_.

"You goddamn dumbass!" Greed shouted. "That's wine; it's f*ckin' flammable!"

Lust screamed, "Stop yelling at me! I'M BEAUTIFUL!"

We paused to glance at her. "Uhh," Pride uttered, "how does that has to do with anything?"

"THE FIRE'S GROWING!" Greed exclaimed to regain our focus. "GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!"

Ed shouted, "Right!" He smashed a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out a fire extinguisher. (How did he know where things are? Hmm...) But then that goddamn, dumb-as-shit Ed began beating the fire with the fire extinguisher.

"Stop! Stop!" I yelled, kicking the extinguisher out of his hands. "That's not how you use a fire extinguisher, you dumbass—"

"I got it!" Gluttony declared abruptly, and seized a bucket from the floor.

Pride's eyes widened for some reason. "Wait, stop, Gluttony—"

But, it was too late. He poured the substance everywhere, and the fire ate it up and increased like a rapacious monster. Already, it burned and destroyed at least half of the living room.

"It's gasoline, idiot!" Pride scolded.

"Why do you have gasoline in your house?" I asked, out of genuine curiosity.

Pride coughed at the ashes, while explaining, "Wrath keeps it around in case he can no longer suppress the urge to commit suicide; he even keeps the matches in his pocket. I have no problem against that, so I never complained."

"Man, your dad needs therapy. And anger management classes."

"Agreed."

"STOP TALKING SO CALMLY!" Greed roared with disapproval. "The fire's surrounding us! We're going to die!"

While the treacherous fire approached, some of us whimpered (ahem, not me), and we, having formed somewhat of a circle, squished against one another as we backed away to the wall. We choked on the ashes, and the insufferable smoke made our eyes all watery.

"Oh, shit!" Lust cried.

"What?"

"The tears are making my mascara run—"

"SHUT UP!" we yelled at her, and she went silent.

"Guys, guys," Gluttony said. "If we're all going to die anyway... let's all be nice to each other this once."

"No time for your goddamn lecture, chubbyass!" I chastised.

Greed spoke up, "Wait... Gluttony may have a point. This is probably our last moment together. Let's spend it amicably."

"Amica-what?"

Greed patted Ed, already commencing this amica-crap. "You know... you can actually be a pretty darn cool kid if you calmed down half the time."

"And, Gluttony," Lust began, "you were a very good partner in crime."

"I need to live for my brother Al," Ed stated, clenching his fists as if all determined and whatnot. "But if I do have to die, I'm okay with having to die with you all. Makes me seem heroic to sacrifice my life while fighting the Homunculi. Al would have been proud."

"He _is _proud of you," Greed responded.

"Are you guys serious here?" I gagged. "Why are you guys saying cheesy stuff now? Where's the goddamn camera? Are we shooting a drama movie or something?"

The fire came closer, and we gasped and hugged someone nearby. Somehow, I ended up with that Pride kid.

"You know," I breathed, "you know how I said I hate you."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well, I _do_ hate you. But to tell you the truth, I don't hate you _that _much."

"Really? You mean it?"

"Y-yeah—"

Greed bellowed, "WAIT A SEC! WE CAN STILL ESCAPE OUT THE FRONT DOOR!"

"Ooh, never mind." I pushed Pride aside, and we all scrambled to the exit. The problem was, there were too much of us piling against the entrance. That resulted to obstruction and us shoving and viciously kicking one another to get out first.

Finally, I managed to swing the door open, and we squeezed our way out. At last, we stumbled into the front yard, blanketed by the vast night sky. Breathing hard and absorbing the enticing fresh air, we assumed we were safe—

_Vroooommm!_

Aroused, we glanced at the direction of the mysterious engine noise to see Sloth driving Wrath's car. Toward us.

"Uhhh," Ed started rather nervously, "what's he doing?"

Sloth drowsily grinned at us, and then, his eyelids began to droop.

Before we could do anything, his whole frame collapsed against the wheel of the car, and he was dead asleep. The car engine, however, was still active, and the unmanned car approached us at quite a terrifying speed.

"IT'S GONNA CRASH INTO US!" I realized, and the rest of us screamed along. "RUN BACK INSIDE!"

We pushed and jostled and scrambled back inside. Ed briskly closed the front door just in time for the car to collide into it—it shook the entire house and caused us all to lose our balance. I felt an immense heat pressing against our backs and turned to see that the fire was humongous now. It had already made its way upstairs, obliterating everything in its path.

"Crap! So, what now?" Greed demanded urgently.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" Lust complained and sank to her knees. "I want to live... I'm just so goddamn beautiful... This is so unfair!" She began to emit nerve-wracking sobs.

Gluttony regarded our crestfallen selves with minimal interest, and murmured offhandedly, "I'm hungry."

"This is not the time!" Ed scolded. "You wanna eat? Eat the fire—" His eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. "Whoa, wait a minute! Gluttony, _eat the fire_ with that eye in your stomach! That's what you did when you went against Roy Mustang, remember?"

We perked up, revived by that magnificent idea. "Go on, Gluttony!"

"But..." Gluttony started tentatively, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "I wanna eat hot dogs."

"Dammit, Gluttony! Eat the (bleep)in' fire or I'll (bleep)in' kill you, you (bleep)in' fatass!"

We spun around and gasped at Pride in shock, but he merely shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "What? I live with Wrath."

Gluttony squealed, frightened by the threat, and revealed his stomach thingy. The slit of the eye stretched open to substantiate the imposing iris, and it began to suck in the fire.

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

After a while, Gluttony finished absorbing the fire, along with several pieces of furniture. But what was left were charred ruins that replaced the grand mansion from before.

In the middle of the rubble, we stood there limply, unsure of what to do next. After all, we had just suffered from at least _something_ today, with Lust and her make-believe beauty, Envy and his baldness, (I do not want to talk about myself), and so on.

Envy kicked a rock despondently. "I can't believe it... All my hair products, burned."

"You don't have any more hair," I pointed out, and he scowled at me.

"And who's fault is that, little girl? You want a mini-skirt to go with your face?" he retorted, although not as snidely and provocatively as usual. He situated himself on a burnt piece of wall, with his shoulders slouched. Mostly everyone was in the same state. I sighed and sat down as well.

At first, there was a heavy silence, but then someone began to chuckle lowly. Soon, it elevated into a blatant and mocking laugh.

We turned to Greed.

"OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Greed cackled, finding something extremely hilarious. He hugged his stomach, while he guffawed uncontrollably and wiped the tears at the corners of his eyes. "OH, MY GOD! THIS IS TOO GOOD! I MEAN, LOOK AT ALL OF YOU!

"Gluttony, you're friggin' naked! Lust, you're extra ugly today—no one knew that was possible! Pride, you're a tiny cross-dresser! Ed, you had to wash Gluttony's armpits, and with those baggy clothes, you look even more _puny_! Sloth, you're practically dead in the car, probably suffering from internal bleeding by that crash, and, Envy, you're effin' bald!

"BUT HOW ABOUT ME, HUH? I'M CLEAN! NOTHING HAPPENED TO _ME_! SO HAHAHAHA TO THE REST OF YA! IN YOUR FACES! I _DO_ GET EVERYTHING I WANT!"

Greed laughed and laughed and _laughed._

We stared at him darkly and piercingly. Slowly, we rose from our respective seats, prepared to murder.

"**Let's bury him alive.**"

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV: (present time)<strong>

"Yeah, so that was how it happened," Selim finished. "Greed wanted us to bury him, and so we did."

"WHAT? LIES! NOW CAN SOMEONE HELP ME OUTTA HERE?" Greed struggled under the layers of dirt, but we all ignored him.

"Oh, my! So it _was_ an accident!" my wife cried, sounding relieved, and she tightly hugged her son. "Oh, it must have been so hard for you! I'm so sorry! You get no punishments, okay?" Pride shot me an arrogant smirk, while he returned her embrace.

"Oh, hell no," I condemned. "Now I gotta step in. _No punishments_? For the last time, woman, open your damn eyes. WE HAVE NO HOUSE! WHERE ARE WE GOING TO SLEEP TONIGHT? IN THE EFFIN' STREETS? All of these creeps killed my house! So, I'mma draw the line here!"

I took out a pen from my breast pocket and melodramatically drew a line on the floor. "All right! I'm kicking you all out!"

The Homunculi sharply inhaled. "But we have no home!"

"ME NEITHER, BUDDY!" I bellowed.

"Bradley!" my wife censured with a frown. "Look, if they have no home to stay in... then we're all in this together. Let them stay with us; it was simply an accident!"

I yelled, "_Stultus es! [You are a fool!] Omnes vos estis molestiae! [You are all annoying!]_"

"Molest?" Envy questioned. "Or are you doing a Harry Potter spell or curse or whatever?"

"_Clausit super eum! [Shut him up!]_" I shouted. "You know what I hate you guys so much that I'mma speak in Latin!"

"You see, the problem is that we have no shelter," my wife stated, as if it wasn't so damn _obvious_ already.

"Well," Ed offered carefully, "there's always this place..."

* * *

><p>We walked to the "place" Ed mentioned. Speaking of which, he even tagged along for some reason, although I never gave him permission to stay with us. And why were the Homunculi still here? No me gusta.<p>

Ed knocked on the door and stepped back. We waited... and waited...

And then, the door opened.

Roy Mustang.

Oh, ho.

His eyes bulged when he saw us, and he quickly tried to close the door—

My foot jammed against the door to stop him. "_Non ita est ieiunium. [Not so fast.]_"

Roy blinked blankly at me for a lengthy interval. "What are you saying? Anyway, I'm sorry, Führer... and friends, but I'm very busy right now. So haha, cheerio!" He was evidently trying to hide something and like _hell_ was I just going to let him get away with it.

With a vigorous shove, I pushed the door outta my way. The rest of us clambered in just in the nick of time to see Riza Hawkeye dart to the kitchen, in a lame attempt to conceal herself.

"Ah, ha~! _Non mirabilis! Dominae amicus est hic! [No wonder! Your lady friend is here!]_" I shouted, exulting over success at having caught him red-handed, and regarded Roy. "Um..._Vivamus_... _Vivamus_... _lo_... Actually, I'm just gonna say it. We need a place to stay so you don't mind if we stay here, right?"

"Uh—"

"Sure you don't!" I cheered mirthfully, patting his back. "My whole house burned down. Oh, and by the way, my wife gave birth to, like, seven more kids, so they're all gonna stay here, too."

"WHAT?"

The Homunculi and Ed grinned at him. "Yo, Roy... Ready to... roll?"

Roy was having a difficult time respiring, while trying to analyze the situation—and he was probably having a stroke over that retarded "_ready to roll_" shit. We ain't animals. "Y-you... Them... Stay... _here_? In _my_... house? We... Us together... in _one_ house?" he spluttered, and then, he choked and plopped on the ground, immediately unconscious.

We scrutinized him for a while, observing the wonders of fainting.

"Oi," Envy started, "it looks like he's not breathing. Someone, do mouth-to-mouth CPR."

We all pointed at one another.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Warning: Inaccurate Latin translations, retrieved from the service Google Translate—and we all know how reliable ****_that_**** is.**

**Next chapter — Who will give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to Roy Mustang? And, it will feature Pride/Selim at school with a surprising (ehh... maybe) teacher! Also, Pride will witness something horrifying with his parents! So, please leave a review—**

**Wrath: Bah! What a goddamn boring author! You gotta give the readers what they want! And you wanna know what that is? Faaaaanservice~ So, readers, review what you wanna see! Some characterXcharacter (I'm married, but I don't mind being with the busty Lust ^^), some yaoi, yuri, some humiliation, like hell I care!**

**So, my readers, who are avid fans of me, leave a review and you'd better say you love Wrath/Bradley/the Führer. Whichever of the three is fine— as you can readily tell, I'm not the demanding type of guy, so I'm giving you three options here.**

**Pride: No. Leave a review if you think I'm cute.**

**Wrath: Great, now NOBODY's gonna review.**

**Pride: Prove him wrong, readers.**


	3. If You're Really Gone I Can Celebrate

**Crazy - Chapter 3: _If You're Really Gone I Can Celebrate_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.**

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

"Is he dead?" Greed inquired, after a prolonged period of silence. "He's not breathing."

Ed nudged Roy's corpse? with his foot, offhandedly. "Oi, Colonel! Wake up!"

My wife inhaled sharply and clapped a palm over her chest in an anxious and concerned manner. "He must have gotten a stroke."

"Nah," I denied blithely. "Don't worry about 'im. He was just so happy to see us, he fainted." The Homunculi unanimously bobbed their heads to express their agreement to my legitimate presumption.

"But, we can't just leave him like this!" my wife persisted. "Like Envy had suggested earlier, someone needs to give him CPR."

She looked at me expectantly for seconds _way_ too long. Repulsed, I shuddered and grimaced. "If you're considering me, then hell no. I'd have to boil my lips. Someone else do it. Preferably, someone with a nasty breath so that it will shock Mustang to a wake. Wife, you wanna do it?"

The addressed individual gasped mawkishly, as if completely taken back. "Are you implying that I have nasty breath?"

"I thought it was obvious in the restaurant when I was nudgin' you that mint."

My wife was all butt-hurt, and she turned from me indignantly. "I'm amazed with you, Bradley!"

"Yeah, I find myself amazing, too," I consented smugly.

"That's not what I meant!" my wife angrily snapped.

"What? You just said I was amazing!" (Listen up, males, women are very complex and hard to understand. If you're gonna marry someone, marry someone hot yet goddamn _stupid_ so they don't think up riddles to mess with your head.)

"I meant I'm surprised with you! How could you say such awful things to me? Furthermore, how could you volunteer your own wife to kiss another man?" she explained, anguished. Her eyes suddenly brightened, and she tried to make me jealous by proposing, "You know what? I might even do so! I might even kiss the man on the floor!"

I gulped down the nausea that ailed the pit of my stomach when I zeroed in on her chapped, ancient lips. "Whatever, it won't be a loss."

"You—"

"Mom! Dad! Stop fighting!" Selim shouted—ugggh, _him. _"I don't like it when you two fight! You're supposed to be my parents! Don't you get that when you two argue, it also hurts me?" At this, my easily swayed wife softened and squeezed him into a stifling hug. But, I wasn't going to get inveigled so simply; I was not fool. I was accustomed to his incompetent tricks. He was performing his "oh, I'm so kind, polite, benevolent, adorable, love me, blah, blah" act.

Feeling rather devilish, I smiled at Selim and embraced him, in which surprised practically everyone who was conscious in the room. "Aww, you're so right. Now _that's _my little girl, Selima."

Except for my wife and Pride, we all laughed, and I pushed him away. Pride glared daggers at me, while my wife hugged him protectively. "You're unbelievable," she chided with her eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not going to talk to you anymore!" Well, I pulled a good one on Pride, and now my wife refused to speak to me. It was like killing two birds with one stone!

Abruptly, Lust inquired, "No one's going to care about Roy?" Her stare then bored into her freshly manicured nails as she lightly blew against them to accelerate the drying process. "Yeah, I don't care either."

"Why don't you give him CPR, Lust?" Envy suggested. "Aren't you a whore or something? You'll kiss anybody."

Lust grimaced and eyed him from head to toes in visible repugnance. "Ew. Not _anybody. _I'm not going to aid that Mustang guy in any way! He tried to kill me once."

Envy sighed, "And we've been trying to do the same ever since."

"Envy, why don't _you _kiss Mustang?" Lust introduced the shockingly brilliant idea—no one would have suspected a small bit of intelligence was existent in the restricted dimensions of her brain. The concurrence to this idea was shared consistently among the rest of us.

"Yeah, Envy, do it," Greed encouraged. "Don't worry; we'll record it for playback later."

Envy grouched at us, with his lips drawn back to reveal a full-blown sight of his unpleasant snarl, "HELL NO! I HATE MUSTANG! Why don't you do it, gayass! Or make your little _Ling_ do it for you!"

Greed scoffed. "Like f*ck I'm putting my lips anywhere near his! Disgusting! Gluttony, you do it."

Lust intervened, "Nah, he might eat his face... which I'm suddenly okay with. So yeah, Gluttony, give CPR!"

"...What's that?"

We ignored the useless bastard now.

I grinned and nudged Pride forward. "Go on, Selima. Give a lil' smooch! Don't be shy, we're all family here!"

Selim muttered with effort, through gritted teeth. "_Daddy_, I'm not Selima. And I will _not _give CPR to that man—"

"COLONEL!"

At the brusque cry, we glanced around the room only to notice Hawkeye running out from her stupid hiding place in the kitchen. She collapsed to the floor next to Roy. "Oh, my God, Colonel! What happened?" She gazed up at us accusingly, particularly at us Homunculi, with her eyes narrowed. "What did you people do to him?"

"We didn't do nothing," I asserted, lifting my shoulders in a dispassionate shrug. "We just need a place to stay overnight. Then, out of happiness, he fainted or died. I'm very okay if it's the latter."

Ed sighed, with a hint of sympathy doused in his tone, "Look, Lieutenant Hawkeye, Colonel is a persistent bastard. There's no way he went down this easily."

"So what could we do?" Hawkeye cried, solicitous for his well-being.

"Well, he's not breathing," Greed remarked. "So we're debating on who should give him CPR. But aren't you two dating or something? You should give him CPR."

"Nah," I disagreed. "That would make Mustang _too_ happy and who wants that?"

"I'm not CPR certified," Hawkeye informed, while flushing a vague shade of red.

"So?" I challenged, finding this rather insignificant. "None of us are either."

Envy raised his hand for attention, as if this place was conformed to the rules and regulations of a classroom. "Since all of us suck at this thing, whoever's last to say 'Not It' will be stuck with the job, kay?— NOT IT!"

"NOT IT!" I roared.

"NOT IT!" Pride joined in.

"NOT IT!" Greed shouted.

"NOT IT!" Ed screamed.

"NOT IT!" Lust bellowed like a freaking man.

"Why are you all screaming?" my wife demanded, and then she hastily added, "Not It."

"N-not It," Hawkeye half-whispered sheepishly.

"So, who's left?" Envy questioned.

"Wait, isn't Sloth supposed to be with us?" Greed asked, and we acknowledged the apparent absence of that bastard who drove my _brand__ new_ car straight into my utterly obliterated house! "So, I guess all that's left is..."

We slowly shifted to Gluttony, who held not one clue on what the hell was going on.

"Well, go on ahead, Gluttony!" I supported with a wry and roguish smirk. "Give Mustang a lil' lip action!" I pushed him forward, and he stumbled toward Mustang on the ground.

"What... am I supposed to do?" Gluttony inquired, tilting his head to the side.

Ed instructed, "Breathe into his mouth." We snickered in a devious and mischievous fashion, zealously rubbing our hands together. Well, except for my wife and Hawkeye, the serious, no-fun people.

"Okay... Do I get to eat something later?"

"Yeah, crap," Envy told him, and Gluttony cheered for some weird, creepy, Gluttony-y (haha, two y's) reason.

The chubby Homunculi cleared his throat, preparing to do as commanded. Wired with anticipation, we inclined for a closer, much more detailed view. Silence hovered in the air as we mutely gawked at Gluttony. Greed was recording the entire thing, while grinning maliciously, as Gluttony's mouth closed in on Mustang.

Hawkeye let out a strangled gasp, and we shushed her, scrutinizing the scene intently. In fact, Lust's face was inches away from Gluttony's as she watched, and one of her eyes bulged. Envy shoved her aside for a better look. "Go away, you one-eyed, butt-ugly bitch."

"ENVY—"

Gluttony sucked in his breath and released it deeply into Mustang's mouth. We snickered, and Greed slapped his hand over his mouth to quit from bursting into a guffaw. That was when Mustang's hand twitched, and he murmured drowsily:

"Oh... Yeah... Mmmmmm... Lieutenant... Yeah."

We cracked up, and Hawkeye became _extremely_ red.

Mustang smiled with pleasure. "Mmm..."

"Psst, Gluttony!" Envy whispered. "Slip him the tongue!" We laughed and patted Envy approvingly for that wonderful idea.

Gluttony gave us a thumbs-up and was about to as told, when Mustang chuckled. "Mm, Lieutenant... You can't resist me when I'm asleep, huh?" Then, the colonel's eyelids flapped open. "My dear lieu—

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

* * *

><p>So yeah, that was what happened. Mustang was screaming and <em>crying <em>like a little girl. He went to brush his teeth, floss, rinse, and boil his mouth over and over and over again; he said that no matter what he did, he couldn't get that disgusting _taste _out of his mouth. He stayed in a corner and rocked himself to sleep.

But, whatever about him. My mansion was rebuilt with alchemy, and we all moved back in, except for Ed who went his separate way. (One down...)

I stayed up the whole night to watch the video and to bury Sloth alive in the backyard. It took me hours since he had such a bigass body. Then, I secretly cried while making a grave for my once beautiful and glorious car.

Morning swiftly transpired, but the rest of the Homunculi were still dead asleep. I was in my bedroom, while my wife was somewhere downstairs doing who-the-eff-cares. I peered into the mirror and delicately trimmed my mustache. This portion of facial hair is immensely crucial; it establishes oneself as an individual. If it's too thick, you're like a circus person. If it's too thin, you're like a French artist.

I used my mini-comb to smooth out my mustache and winked at my stunning reflection. "Why, hello, you ruggedly handsome devil. Whoooooey, when do you ever stop looking so damn good—ah, ah, ah, wait a minute." I used my tiny scissors to prune a bit off the left side of it so that it can the exact counterpart of the right.

"Trimming that caterpillar on your upper lip again?" Ew, Pride came in and plopped on my bed, without due invitation.

"Yo, scoot it, you. I sleep on that thing, you know," I muttered, nauseated. "And don't you know your mustache—"

"Defines who you are. You told this to, like, everyone a hundred plus times."

"'Cuz it's goddamn true. And, why're you in here?"

"Trying to escape from your wife. I don't know why she gets so excited since I'm getting a new teacher today."

"You're getting a new teacher?" I asked and then chuckled, shaking my head. "Wow, for a sec there I sounded like I _cared_, huh?"

Pride made a face. "I told you I'm getting a teacher a few days ago. So, your wife is all about 'first impression.' It's so annoying—"

"Selim~ There you are, honeeey!" My wife ebulliently entered the room and compressed Pride in a smothering hug, before he could withdraw.

I grinned. "Hey, Selim just said he misses you."

Pride glared at me. "What? I—"

"Awww! Is that true, Selim?" my wife remarked happily. "You are so adorable!" She kissed him many, many, many times on both of his cheeks, leaving nasty lipstick stains. Pride shot me a distasteful look while I snickered.

My wife turned to me, and I started to panic, glancing around the room for a way to achieve salvation. _Crap! Where's my beer? Where is it?_

Her lips parted to display a gaping, dark hole, outlined by rows of teeth.

_Shit! It's starting! It's starting! I need my beeeeer! Where is it?_

"You know, Selim's getting a new teacher today. His old one has to undergo surgery, and he retired as well. What a poor man!"

_It's too late! I'm hearing words. Desperate times go for desperate measures. _I hastily advanced to my closet, taking long strides, and tugged it open. Hidden inside was a golden object: my lovely wine. _Hurry!_

"I was thinking we should visit him in the hospital. You know, give him flowers—speaking of flowers, I just planted these _beautiful _ones out in the garden—"

I pried against the cap, and it flipped from its position. Finally! I started chugging the liquid down and tested its effects by pausing to listen intently:

"So," my wife said. "Blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah, blah! Blah, blah! Blah. Blah!"

I sighed, relieved. I was a bit panicky, you know, when I heard "so," but now it was all good.

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

Mother packed a camera into my backpack. "Be sure to take a picture of your teacher for me! Be a nice kid, remember!"

"Yeah," I nodded to show my affirmation, quickly. "Okay, thanks, Mom." I retrieved the backpack from her and slung it over my shoulder. In a split-second, I went dashing for the front door—

But, Mother had anticipated this, and she reacted faster, grasping onto my arm. "Wait, Selim! Give your mother a kiss first!"

"Umm..." I muttered tentatively. Certainly, it was below a sublime Homunculus such as I to bestow signs of affection. But seeing her bright and expectant, albeit slightly childlike, countenance, I couldn't just refuse. Peering around to make sure that no one was within our proximity, I sighed, "All right—"

A huge yawn filled the quietness, and _Envy _began walking downstairs. (He had been frequently using this grow-hair-fast product, and thus far, one strand of hair sprouted in the middle of his head so it was pretty funny.)

"I'll kiss you later, Mom," I whispered. "I'm going to be late for school—"

"Just give your mother one kiss, Selim!" Mother whined—what persistent humans. She had articulated it at such an exceptional level that even Envy overheard it.

Thus, Envy faced us and grinned, folding his arms in present his entire and undivided attention. "Yeah, Selima! Give your mommy a little kiss!"

"U-um, Mom! Not in front of my 'friend'!" I protested, trying to be polite as possible without narrowing my voice into a hiss.

"Aw, it's adorable of you to be so shy!" Mother chimed and planted a kiss on my cheek. Envy emitted a snicker, and I couldn't look at him in the face.

"Okay, off you go," she urged. _Thank goodness. _But then, she stupidly added: "Bye, my little _man_!"

Envy started cracking up, and I, humiliated, rushed out the exit.

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

The rest of the Homunculi departed to some place, leaving only my wife and me at home. I was reading the funnies in the newspaper while sipping my beer, when an important realization seized me.

"Wife, you hear that?" I asked.

She was surprised (probably 'cuz this is one of the rare times I would start the conversation. I mean even when her food was on fire, I didn't say nothing). My wife cocked her ear to one side curiously. "I don't hear anything."

"_Exactly! _Everyone left! It's all quiet and peaceful." I put down my newspaper mischievously. "And there's only the two of us! You get what I'm egging at?"

"B-but... are you sure?"

"Yes. And now we don't even have to go to the bedroom to do this. We can do it right here, right now."

My wife giggled and blushed. "I guess so..."

I grinned back. "Goooood."

Then, a few minutes later:

"Oh, yeah, baby! That's what I'm talking about! Ohhhhh, yeah!"

I stood up and cheered. "WHOOO, YEAH! GOOOOOOOOAL!" I was watching sports on TV. "Yeah, go, baby! Go!"

My wife was pissed off for some reason that evidently did not involve soccer, so it did not matter. "Why are you watching TV?"

"Didn't I tell you? It's only the two of us! We could finally watch the living room's big TV, and not our bedroom's. Now shush it."

My wife stood up from her secluded position on the sofa and maneuvered in front of the television screen to block my view. There, she furiously huffed and crossed her arms. "I feel so unappreciated right now! Don't you rather be paying attention to this?" After glancing around shyly, she began to perform suggestive dances.

"Yeah, yeah, good. Go practice your ninja moves over there in the corner. I'm watching!"

She pursed her lips into a thin line, something that she tends to do when frustrated. Then, she, out of impulse, unbuttoned her shirt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. The shower's thataway, you blind bat."

Affronted, my wife gasped. "I was trying to attract you!" She turned off the TV angrily. "Bradley! I demand we have it right this minute!"

I glanced at her sharply in alarm, but soon, my flabbergasted expression morphed, and a wily grin formed on my lips. "Whoa, feisty. Heh, I am suddenly very attracted to you right now."

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

I had never experienced more _horror, _more _terror. _And I had killed many people and witnessed intense gore, with guts spilling out and everything. But this was different; this was much, much **worse.**

You see, I was just walking home from school, thinking about how boring today was. Our new teacher turned out to be Winry Rockbell, the girl Ed has a thing with, but it was nothing special. So yeah, as I said, everything was normal. I strode to the front of the mansion and casually took out my key to unlock the door.

I swung it open. "Mom, I'm—"

And that was when I saw the _horror._

Yeah, Mom and Dad were there. Their necks were attached and their blood remained intact within their interior systems, so they were not dead, dying, or injured at all. But, I would have preferred that they were harmed instead of _this._

They were together, n-n-n-n-n—...

_Naked._

"AAAHHH!" I unleashed a scream in repercussion to this absolutely horrendous sight. What in the world was I seeing? What were those _things_? Weren't those things supposed to be covered? Surely, this was illegal?

Finally—but still, all was too late—they took notice of my presence and sucked in their breaths in bewilderment.

"AAAAHHHH!" Wrath shrieked.

My mother cried, "AAAHHH!"

And then, the Homunculi piled up behind me, having returned home as well. Greed said, "Yo, I— AAAHHH!"

Lust hollered, "AHHHH!"

Gluttony murmured, "Ah?" and Envy said, "Ah, ha~" He fished out a camera and snapped a photo of them. The screaming went on for like seven minutes, and my parents scrambled for their clothes to conceal their nude bodies.

Wrath panted, "Why... Why ho—"

"Mo?" Gluttony suggested.

"No! Home! Why you home soon?" Wrath demanded to me.

"I home 'cuz—I not home soon! Is usual time I home!"

"Why? You no friends?" Wrath countered. "Hang with friends!"

"Why're you all talking like cavemen?" Envy asked.

"Selim, dear," my mother spoke up, nervously, "you're not old enough to know of this. We were just... just..."

"Wrestling," Wrath finished.

"Yes, wrestling... And, it was hot and sweaty..."

"So we took our clothes off," Wrath completed. "Yeah, 'cuz it was hot..."

"Uh-huh, and sweaty," my mother added.

"So yeah."

"Yep, yeah."

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

The following morning, I impetuously left to school without looking at _them_. I mean, they got me scarred for life. And I live for a _long_ time.

During class, I didn't pay attention to Winry, or Ms. Rockbell, or Mrs. Elric, or Blonde chick & Blue eyes, or whatever her name is. The frightening memory imprinted into my mind since yesterday replayed continuously. Soon, class was over before I knew it. Reluctantly, I packed my books into my backpack, making sure that this procedure was executed at a painfully sluggish pace. I did _not_ want to return home.

Suddenly though, someone held onto my hand. I flinched and looked up to see a female classmate, who possessed brown curls for hair, green eyes and dimples. Her name was Sheila or something relative.

"Hi, Selim," Sheila greeted, smiling in a friendly manner, and I withdrew my hand.

"What?"

"Me and some of my friends are about to play hide-and-seek before we go home. Wanna join?" she invited. "You seem sad today so..."

Sad? Tsk, this child was ridiculous; I was terrified. "No thanks," I declined. "I got to head home to my pa... my par... my... p... p... _Those horrible, naked people who secretly do things at my absence, thinking I will never see, but oh, I did. I did see_. _I saw everything, and no, they cannot deny it anymore._"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"No, I didn't say anything. Actually, never mind; I'll play."

"Yay!" Sheila cheered joyfully. "Okay, go hide! I'll be outside and I'll count to twenty."

I nodded, and she ran off. I peered around the classroom, trying to find a good hiding spot. Then, I zeroed in on the teacher's bag, that appeared suitable for my size. I crawled inside with ease, finding it rather roomy and comfortable...

* * *

><p><strong>Winry's POV:<strong>

I returned to the classroom, that was empty for I had dismissed the students, after going to the restroom to get rid of that no-no lunch stuck inside me. It required a lot of toilet paper in order to—

Yeah, well, anyway, I was prepared to leave as soon as I was finished wiping the chalkboards clean. I snatched my bag off the floor, only to realize that it was considerably heavier than usual, and a bit squirmy and bumpy. _I must have got a lot to grade tonight._ I decided to drag it along since it would be too strenuous to lift it, and accidentally guided the bag to collide into the door. "Whoops..."

While hauling it across the hallway, someone called out my name. I jumped and turned around, smashing the bag against the wall.

A student of mine, who I recognized as Sheila, approached me and paused for a breather, doubling over and clapping her palms over her kneecaps. "Ms. Rockbell! Have you seen Selim? I've been looking for him."

"No, I'm sorry, I haven't." She nodded and scurried away.

Later on, I walked home and entered my house that I had recently moved into. "Hi, Pinako! Hi, Al! Hi, Ed!"

They all merrily said their hellos, except for Ed who mumbled it.

"Ed! I just came back from work so I would think you should be more cheerful when greeting me! You lazy bum!"

"And I nearly got scorched to death yesterday night so I think you should be more relieved when you see me alive!" Ed retorted.

"It's your fault for hanging with the Homunculi, you stupid idiot! I'd be more relieved if you grow taller!"

Ed gasped. "I AM TALL!"

Al raised his hands as if the grand gesture would mitigate the tension. "Hey, hey, guys, don't fight with each other. Winry, want me to sort out your things?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, thanks." I handed him my bag and then irascibly whirled around to face Ed. "See? Al's nice!"

"Yeah, he is," Ed replied. "He's nicer than you!"

* * *

><p><strong>Al's POV:<strong>

I went in Winry's room and dumped the bag on the floor. While humming, I peeked inside to identify its contents. "La-la-la—

"AAAHHHH!"

Winry and Ed rushed in the room at the strident sound of my voice, and demanded, "What's wrong?"

"L-l-l-l-look!" I spluttered and vehemently jabbed a finger at the bag.

Bemused, Ed inquired, "Why—"

"JUST LOOK!"

"Okay, jeez, Al." Ed proceeded to uncover the bag, only to perceive _Pride _tucked within. He was bruised and beat up, and apparently unconscious as a result of these inflicted injuries. It required several moments for Ed to process this. And then: "YOU KIDNAPPED THE FÜHRER'S SON, WINRY?"

Winry yelped, placing a hand over her mouth in horror. Her eyes enlarged as she registered the unfortunate sight, and she shook her head in disbelief. "No! I mean, I don't know! I didn't know he was in here, I swear! I thought he went home! What do we do?"

"Uhh, I dunno? MAYBE RUN FOR OUR FREAKIN' ASSES—"

"Cookies, kids?"

The members in the room flinched and screamed, spinning around to see Pinako standing behind them.

"N-no, there's nothing in the bag on the floor!" Ed blurted, rather stupidly.

"I never asked..." Inquisitively, Pinako tried to look in the bag.

Winry hastily jumped on top of it. "Nope! Nothing in here! Just books! You know, school stuff! And, no cookies, thank you! Bye!"

"H-huh?"

Ed laughed nervously. "Yeah, you can 'h-huh?' in the hallway." He pushed her outside and closed and locked the door. "Shit!" he exclaimed.

"Now what do we do?" Winry anxiously asked. "W-we can hand him back, right?"

"Are you kidding me?" Ed questioned with a raise of his eyebrow. "By now it's too late! You think we can go and give him back, saying, 'Oh, yeah, I forgot Pride was in my bag. Haha. But now that I found him, you can have him back.' People are not gonna miraculously believe that! We're toast! He's the Führer's son! We'd be sentenced to spend our lifetimes in jail!"

"B-but!" Winry stammered in protest and burst into tears. "I don't wanna go to jail! I need the money from teaching, to open an automail store! I'm too yooooooooooung!"

"Winry!" Ed snapped impatiently. "Dial it down, drama queen. We all got to think of a way outta this!"

I interrupted by clearing my throat and making a perfectly valid point, "Not to be rude but, what do you mean by 'we'? I got nothing to do with this."

I was about to escape, but Winry latched onto my metal arm and glowered at me. It seemed as though the atmosphere had suddenly dropped several degrees—even though I lacked a terrestrial body capable of perceiving temperature. "If I die... I'm taking you all with me!"

"M-me, too?" I squeaked.

"You betcha."

"But why is he beat up?" Ed asked, out of curiosity.

Winry explained in an awkward manner, "Er, I slammed him into walls several time, and when I threw him into the car... well, I missed. So, I had to pick him up again to toss him in the car. Then, I accidentally shut the car door on him, too."

"Wow, you should not have kids when you grow up, Winry," Ed advised, swaying his head in censure.

I voiced, "But it's worth a shot if we just give him back, right? As long as—"

Pride uttered a small groan and squirmed, and we froze in response. Slowly, the little boy's eyelids began to flutter open.

"AHHHHH!" Winry grabbed a tool and whacked him, and he fainted again.

"WINRY!" we both shouted.

"What? I panicked!"

"Wait, I just thought of something, guys." Ed's contemplative smirk transformed into a wide and insidious grin. I gulped in apprehension; if Ed had an idea, then we were in deep trouble. "Why bother giving him back like this? We'll just be the culprits. 'Kay, listen up, I got a beautiful idea..."

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

"I AM BEAUTIFUL!" Lust cried about something Envy said, again.

I sighed and sipped my beer. Today, Pride stayed after-school or something along those lines, because a profound sensation of relaxation flooded throughout me to abate my muscles from mental and emotional strain. I smiled. What a happy and peaceful time—

"I FAILED AS A MOTHER!"

Yeah, this was kind of an off-day for me. Maybe I should ask Greed to kill me; he seemed to have the most brains. I should make my coffin extra spacious, too. I'd hate to be claustrophobic while dead.

My wife wailed, cried, and threw a nasty tantrum that tortured my ears. "WHERE'S SELIM? WHERE IS HE? IT'S NIGHTTIME! HE SHOULD BE BACK ALREADY!"

"Jeez, woman, calm the hell down—"

"CALM DOWN? HE'S GONE! WHAT IF HE RAN AWAY FROM HOME!"

"Then, yay!"

She stormed up to me and curled her fingers around my collar, surprising everyone. "Look, Bradley! If I don't have my son with me, I'll go crazy!"

"Wait... so you aren't crazy _now_?" I asked, seriously shocked and everything.

She began to sob. "SEEEEELIM! SELIM! SEEEEELIM! SELIM! SELIM! SELIM!"

"Shush it, Pokemon. Stop freaking out. He's probably just somewhere out there playing princess or something."

My wife murmured, "He'll play princess... without me?" She wailed, and all of the Homunculi shot her dirty looks.

"Hey, shut your wife up," Envy said, applying a weird substance to his baldass head.

"Why you gotta ask for impossible things, boy?"

"You know," my wife started with a sniff, "ever since yesterday, he refused to look at me in the face. He never even made eye contact. He was fidgety and twitchy, and he wouldn't eat. He woke up way earlier than usual, and he left the house without saying goodbye to me!"

"Maybe he's on drugs," I suggested nonchalantly, taking a nice gulp from my bottle of beer.

"He would never do such a thing!" she admonished. "He's growing distant from his mother, that's all!" It was as though her own confirmation of this incited her to madness. "HE DOESN'T NEED ME ANYMORE! HE DOESN'T NEED ME TO FEED HIM, TO GIVE HIM A BATH—"

"Whoa, too much information," Greed chided. "We already saw Gluttony naked. Let's not take turns."

"Oiiiiiii!" a servant cried all of a sudden, momentarily distracting us from this load of crap. He ran over, thrusting me a letter. "You have just received a mail."

"Mm." I took it and tore it open, with everyone curiously peering over my shoulders. It read:

_Are you looking for your son? SELIM BRADLEY? HUH? WELL, ARE YOU? Yeah, well, if you are, stop looking 'cuz we kidnapped him already! MUHAHA!_

_If you wanna see him, you gotta pay the ransom._

_That's right: $10,000,000... PLUS TAX._

_Haha! Well, Fewher Bradley? If you wanna see him again ALIVE, you have to pay by TOMORROW. Haha. I'll give you more of the deets tmmr of what you should do._

_P.S. Oh, and if you didn't know, I'm the kidnapper. :)_

_Hope you have a BAD day—haha, didn't see that coming, huh?_

_The Kidnapper—no, wait, the SelimNapper. Creative. (:_

We were all quiet. And then, my wife gasped, "OH, MY GOD! OH, MY GOD! HOW HORRIBLE!"

"I KNOW!" I shouted. "WHO SPELLS 'FÜHRER' WRONG, HUH? WHO SPELLS IT 'FEWHER'? JUST 'CUZ IT SOUNDS LIKE THAT?"

"Lameass letter," Envy said. "Whoever wrote this piece of shit is stupid. Reminds me of Ed. Who switches the sides of the smiley faces?"

My wife burst into tears. "HE'S KIDNAPPED, BRADLEY! OH, MY GOD! HOW CAN YOU BE SO CALM? PAY THE RANSOM! PAY THE RANSOM!"

"You f*ckin' kidding me? Waste ten million dollars for _that_?"

"IT'S OUR SON!"

"Pfft. Now, wife, think of a _good _reason."

"YOU DON'T CARE? AREN'T YOU SAD AT ALL?"

"_Sad_?" I repeated incredulously. "Woman, you're _trippin'_. Why the hell would I be sad? I wanna throw an effin' party! In fact, I gotta invite that kidnapper to tell him thanks for taking Selim. Hehehe."

"Wh—what? Don't you want Selim back?"

"Woman, I'll ship him away in a second. I'mma place Selim in a box and put some nice wrapping paper around it." I snapped my fingers. "And just to be fancy, I'll add a bow on top. And then, I'll send it away with a card that reads: No refunds."

My wife tugged on my collar and _lifted_ me up, scaring everyone with the brusque display of aggression. "H-hey, wife... p-put me down gently. We can talk about this... You know I hate heights," I stammered. "Look, Selim is an annoying lil' bugger. Once they spend a day—no, an _hour _with him... actually, they just have to spend fifteen _seconds_ with him, and they'll be ready to shoot themselves. It happened with me.

"So trust me on this, woman. They'll be so annoyed, they'll ship him right back."

"That's true," Envy supported. I shot him a thumbs-up, but then he added, "You know, unless they get so annoyed, they kill him first."

I was ready to whack that fool, when my wife began to speak very lowly and creepily, "I want my son back, Bradley. And I will do whatever it takes." She dropped me like a hot potato and stormed upstairs. I couldn't breathe for like seven seconds, and when I could, I began to wheeze.

"Whoa," Greed murmured. "You got owned by your wife."

"Nah," I panted. "Whatever. Don't worry; after a few minutes, she'll cool down and realize how great life is without all that Selim crap."

But then a few minutes later, my wife descended the stairs, and I looked up to see that she was holding gigantic blank posters and writing utensils. "Let's go get our son back!"

"With those stuff?" Envy questioned dubiously, with an eyebrow raised. "Right, we'll threaten them by saying, 'If you don't give Selim back, I'll throw an eraser at you—or if I'm serious, I'll poke you with a pencil.'"

"No, no, no," my wife denied, shaking her head. "We'll do this!"

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

I furtively observed as Ed, Al, and Winry piled out of the bedroom, and I crawled out of the bag. The last thing I recalled was that I crawled in here to hide, but then I was lifted and swung around; and after smashing into many things, I fainted. Once liberated from the tight confines of the suffocating sack, I stretched and stuffed a blanket inside so it would look like I was still in there—it'll be a funny prank later on.

Peering out the window, I judged that it was nighttime by the way darkness obscured the area, and decided that I should probably go home. Calmly, I strolled outside the bedroom and trotted down the stairs. After all, why should I rush? There was no way my parents would overreact by my slight tardiness.

In the living room, I saw Ed, Al, and Winry advance out the front door, and so, I went around to the back. And in the backyard, there was a garden.

* * *

><p><strong>Pinako's POV:<strong>

I was simply weeding in the garden, when I heard someone behind me. It flagged suspicion for that approaching person came with utmost silence and did not identify his or herself.

"HAIIIIIYAH! PINAKO-JUTSU!"

I spun around and kicked the person, with my secret Pinako-ninja technique. The victim slammed into the wall and ceased to move. I strode over with a flashlight. "Now let's uncover the wannabe-thief!" The light shined into the person's face to reveal:

_THE FÜHRER'S SON!_

I gasped, "Shit! Crap! Man! No! Shit! Crap! Man! No!" _What should I do? What should I do? I assaulted the Führer's son! HE'S NOT BREATHING, IS HE? _"D-don't freak out, Pinako! You can do this! You can think of a way out of this!" I paced back and forth worriedly, and that was when Ed arrived.

"Oi, Pinako—"

I quickly picked up Selim and tossed him into the shed; shutting the door. "N-no! There's nothing I'm deliberately trying to hide in this shed behind me. This shed right here!" I pointed to the shed. "No, there's nothing in here!"

Puzzled, Ed blinked. "I'm just here to get some money. Me, Winry, and Al are gonna go eat—"

"Yeah, it's in my purse! Get whatever you need!"

In a mischievous manner, he grinned. "Whatever I need, huh? OKAY!" He skipped off happily. Luckily, I only put like three dollars in there, so the best he could do was buy a sandwich to split with the two other people.

I glanced back at the shed. If I turn the Führer's son in, I would indubitably get into trouble. For now, I must keep him concealed in there so that I can prepare a strategy to avoid imprisonment. Hopefully, in the meantime, his parents would not suspect. Just in case my ninja move was too much for his vessel to handle, I'll order a coffin for the boy...

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

So, it turned out that my wife was forcing us to create "Have you seen him?" posters. We were to paste the pictures of Selim onto the sheets of construction paper and write some stuff on them to hang them up around the town later.

But, there was one very stupid thing.

"WHAT'S THIS?" I demanded. "YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE A REWARD OF $25,000,000? That's even more than half of what the SelimNapper wanted!"

She shrugged it off. "The bigger the prize, the more effort people will put into it." No, of course she did not care. It was MY money she was wasting. "Here, work on this." She handed me a Selim poster.

I smirked. "Good; something to throw my gum into." She glared daggers at me. "Just kidding." Once my wife looked away, I spat my gum into the poster.

"Hey," Lust whispered to us, "let's draw Pride weird. I drew Pride with a longass nose." She showed us her depreciating picture of a monstrous and dangling nose attached to Pride's face, and we snickered.

Envy grinned joyfully, "And I cut out Gluttony's face and placed it over Pride's, so he'll look like a bobble head with a fatass face."

"I drew Pride with boobs," Greed said.

We all cracked up.

"Hey, focus!" my wife admonished, contracting her brow in a frown. She was obviously displeased with hearing chuckles of hilarity, as she was expecting to see solemn scribbles on the paper, with sweaty beads running down our foreheads in concentration. "Let's go hang up these posters around town!"

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

I woke up with a jolt only to acknowledge that I was tucked in a restricted and dark place. I squirmed and pushed my hands against the top to unscrew the lid. Sitting up while gulping for fresh air, I realized that I was kept in a coffin. _Wow, I can end up in really weird places when I'm unconscious._

I climbed on out, replacing the lid, and traipsed away from the shed to see that I was still in Ed's backyard. _Well, time to go home._

* * *

><p><strong>Ed's POV:<strong>

Al, Winry, and I were rambling around town, without much of a precise destination in mind. Winry was desperately wringing her hands together, something she always performs when she feels guilty for whatever reason. I was about to tell her to quit it, when suddenly, Al pointed to a poster nailed to a pole.

"What's that?"

Inquisitively, we stepped up to it, and I read it aloud:

_HAVE YOU SEEN HER?_

_SELIMA BRADLEY._

_WANTED ALIVE. PREFERABLY DEAD. NO ONE CARES. JK. My wife won't stop nagging me._

_Reward: $25 . . . 000,000 (I'm forced to add the zeros.)_

_Address: Biggest mansion in town. Duh._

And, below the information was an image of Gluttony's glued over Pride's. He possessed an anomalously lengthy nose, and had a body with breasts.

"I thought he was a boy," Winry mused.

"He is," I affirmed positively. "You know the Homunculi; they will make fun of each other any time they can." Rereading the written statements to properly register it, a gradual grin manifested on my lips. "Guys... instead of $10,000,000... why don't we go for $25,000,000? It's much more than the cheap three bucks in this purse."

"Uh oh," Al squeaked. "Ed has another plan..."

* * *

><p><strong>Pinako's POV:<strong>

I was nervously wandering around town to take a breather and contrive a plan, when I encountered a poster:

_HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?_

_SELIM BRADLEY._

_PLEASE FIND AND RETRIEVE HIM! I'M HIS MOTHER, AND I'M WORRIED SICK FOR HIS SAFETY!_

_REWARD: $25,000,000! YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL! I JUST NEED MY SON!_

_ADDRESS: FÜHRER'S MANSION._

I smiled devilishly. $25,000,000, huh?

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

We returned to my mansion, and I slouched against the sofa, completely exhausted; my wife was really a slave-driver, constraining us to put posters in specific locations. I was merely enjoying my beer—which was vitally needed—when the door swung open. (Uh, why didn't we lock the door...?)

To our muted surprise, Ed, Al, and Winry trailed in, and the brother clad in a metal suit was holding a sizable bag. They wore goofy grins on their features, while we gawked. They continued to grin, and we continued to stare.

Then, Ed nudged Al. The latter awkwardly cleared his throat, and announced:

"We found Selim Bradley!"

"MOVE!" My wife shoved Greed, and he was hurled to the wall. She impetuously dashed to the uninvited trio, with evident relief reducing some of them wrinkles on her face. "Oh, my God, really?"

"Yep," Ed guaranteed, proudly folding his arms and nodding. "Although... he might be a bit... a bit beat-up. Oh, and the six hundred dollars and seventy-two cents in his pocket are gone, by the way. Just so you know."

"W-where was he?"

"Well," Ed started, "this was how it went..."

* * *

><p><strong>Ed's Fake Story (Ed's POV):<strong>

The three of us were idly promenading through the park so that we could go swing on some swings. But then, Al spotted a boy stuck on a slide. He was unconscious and injured, and there lacked a notion of life from him except for an occasional rise and fall of his chest while he respired.

"It's Selim Bradley!" I recognized. "We must get him down from there. What if he's dead?"

"But, oh, no! I can't climb that!" Al shouted, inspecting his metal suit. "Gasp! Alas, I am too big!"

"And I'm too girly!" Winry miserably stated. "Oh, what can we do?"

"Fear not!" I shouted in a bold and courageous manner. "I'll save him!" I nimbly climbed up the slide, and gently took hold of the boy. Jumping down from my position, I graciously landed on the ground.

"Wow, now that's my brother!" Al declared with pride.

"You're my hero!" Winry cried, flushing. "You're so brave, friendly, kind, and such a tall gentleman!"

I gravely rested my hand on her shoulder. "I know I'm all those things, but, this isn't about me right now; it's about Selim."

"Wow, how noble and humble, Brother!" Al approved.

"Tall Prince Edward," Winry called, "the poor boy is harmed. Shall we bring him to the hospital?" They both expectantly glanced at me, their leader, for guidance.

"No," I expressed disapproval to that suggestion. "We shall bring him to his parents. It's just the right thing to do. They must be worried sick. I want them to be rest at ease in assurance that their son is alive and well."

"Now _that's_ Tall Prince Edward!" Al and Winry cheered, impressed.

Al gestured to an abandoned bag. "I'll put dear Selim in this, so it'll be easier to carry him."

"Good thinking, Al!" I said, and he stuffed Selim in the leather container. "Now onward, my fellow comrades, to the Fewher's!"

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

Al and Winry shifted uncomfortably during Ed's stupid story, while Ed was beaming. I scowled at him accusingly. "You just spelled it 'Fewher' again, didn't ya?"

Envy muttered under his breath questioningly, "Tall Prince Edward?"

We held many, many doubts of the credibility of this tale, particularly when he coined himself as someone of great stature. However, my goddamn naive and gullible wife was wholly amazed. "Oh, my God! Edward Elric! I owe you one! Thank you so much!"

"You sure you wanted us to be 'rest at ease in assurance' that our son is alive and well," I asked skeptically, "or did you come for the reward?"

"No, of course not!" Ed denied a bit too quickly. "I didn't even _know_ there was a reward!"

"Uh-huh..." the rest of the Homunculi murmured, distrust patently clear in our tones.

"But," Winry sighed in an exaggerated fashion, as she somberly gazed at the ground, "it'll be nice if we _can_ receive a reward..."

"Of course you will!" my wife pledged. "You did such a great job! You can have the $25,000,000! I just need to see my son first!"

"All right!" Al eagerly flipped over the bag and dumped out its contents.

A pink blanket fell out.

_The ultimate silence._

"Yep, looks like him," I broke the dense and laden atmosphere. "Pink and fluffy. Now, do you want your reward sent in cash, check, online banking or in **punches**? Or maybe in **kicks**,**sta****bs**, **headbutts**, **feet up asses**... Man, technology these days.

"I-I swear he was in here!" the trio frantically claimed.

"Nah, it's okay," I admitted indifferently. "I prefer the blanket. It'll keep me warm at night. Already so much more use and promise than..."—I scrunched up my face in disdain—"_that _boy. Ew."

My wife was frozen from head to toes. "My son... Y-you don't have my son." Once she processed this (fortunate) fact, she started to look seriously, seriously angry. She then unbuttoned her shirt.

"She's gonna flash us!" Lust conjectured.

"Ew, no thanks," Envy said, with a grimace.

However, my wife pulled out _two bigass guns_! (_My _two bigass guns—damn bitch, jacking my stuff.) Everyone was shocked by this sudden revelation, and backed away from her out of precaution.

"W-wait, I can explain!" Ed hastily stammered. "You listen to explanations, right, Mrs. Br-Br..."

My wife began to load bullets into both of the guns. "You get a few seconds."

"W-well... well... well... um..."

"It's my fault!" Winry impulsively blurted, burying her face in her hands in shame.

"Winry!" Ed yelled, and then added, "Well, it kinda is..."

My wife cocked the projectile weapons and directed them carefully, squinting her eyes to adjust and zero in on the target in her vision. "Well, just stand still and let me aim for your heart..."

"Blame me!" Al shouted, and then muttered, "Since I'm bulletproof anyway."

"No!" Ed cried. "If you're going to kill, kill me!"

"Ugh, good people are so complicated," Envy complained.

"It's okay," my wife said. "**I have enough bullets to kill all three of you.**"

But then without warning, we heard footsteps, and in trotted the tiny Pinako, who was dragging along a coffin. Heaving for air, she laboriously propped the casket aside. It was a miracle how she managed with such a small body. "Do... do not worry; I got Selim Bradley!"

"REALLY?" my wife cried, immediately lowering her guns.

"REALLY?" Ed, Al, and Winry gasped in unison, appalled.

"Really?" the other Homunculi asked incredulously.

I sat up straight, happiness pervading me at the sight of the coffin. "He's dead?"

Pinako blinked for a few moments. "We'll see. But first, let's talk about the reward..."

"OPEN IT!" my wife impatiently commanded, shattering her calm composure. "I WANNA SEE MY SON!"

"All right, all right! Gosh." Pinako threw down the lid.

Nothing was inside.

_Now this was _the_ ultimate silence._

"Wait, I don't get it," Greed spoke, having recovered from being flung to the wall. "Is he invisible or what?"

Pinako was in the midst of a gasp, with her eyes bulging, as she passionately motioned to the empty interior of the coffin. "He was in here! He was! I'm serious! H-he was... he was..."

"**I have enough of you people**."

We turned to my wife, who was pointing her guns at the four of them. She spat on the ground, like some badass.

"**Goodbye**."

They screamed, and she squeezed the triggers.

But then, Greedling jumped in, and the bullets went through him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to all the people that reviewed: FullMetalCrayon, Some Random Reader, Prettycream7, muffinsPJIHP777, Nuadha, FullmetalFan870, and sesshomarulova7.**

**Special note: Cenz is the standard currency in Amestris. However, my knowledge of it is severely limited, and thus, I have settled for US dollars. Sorry for any misconceptions.**


	4. Crazy, You Say? That's Not Us

**Crazy - Chapter 4: _Crazy, You Say? That's Not Us_**

**This chapter introduces three new characters! (Not new, new like OC's, but rather, from the dear FMA series.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.**

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

Greedling sacrificed himself by taking in all the bullets. They penetrated him, and he collapsed to the ground in slow motion. There, he laid absolutely rigid, his movements quelled.

"NOOOO!" Ed sued to the ground, distraught. "Greed, talk to me! Or Ling... Or, whoever you are! Greedling, talk to me, man! You can't die now! Why, Greedling? Why would you do that for me?"

"For us, too, you know," Al added.

Greed wheezed out a breath, his cheeks pallid, while we gawked at this scene reticently. "I-I can't talk... right now... So I'll... I'll... I'll text you." He took out his phone and sent Ed a text message.

Ed's phone chimed, and he fished it from his pocket and read what was imprinted on the screen aloud: _Ed... Oh & the other three what's-their-faces. I had to save u guys 'cuz you ppl don't mean harm—& 'cuz Ling took over so I really had no choice, that bastard. Anyway, 2day I did something brave, honorable, great, heroic, awesome, manly, courageous, & nice. I want u to write all these adjectives on my grave. Thx. Ttyl._

"Oh, Greedling!" Ed yelled, his grip on the phone quivering ever so slightly in fervor. "Don't die!"

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped and reached out with his hand to us Homunculi.

We exchanged glances with one another. "Who's gonna take it?" I questioned.

"He doesn't have much time!" Winry cried urgently. "Just one of you!"

After a temporary cessation of all activity, with each one of us sincerely reluctant and disinclined, Envy decided to be the bigger man. "Fine," he sighed and clasped Greed's hand. "Yeah?"

Greed whispered, his voice wavering, "I just... I just wanted you to know that i-if I die..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't..."

"Don't?"

"Don't touch my stuff, bastards." Greed closed his eyes.

"WHHHHHHHY!" Ed shouted and vehemently beat the ground. "WHY? WHY CAN'T I PROTECT ANYONE?"

I whistled, and my wife whacked my shoulder disapprovingly.

"WHHHHHHHHYYYYY?" Ed continued to scream. This guy was in denial.

And then, Greed regenerated, red electricity glazing across his body, and he energetically sprung from his position. "Well, that's enough exercise for today. The whole dramatic leaping thing. Ugh."

"Y-you're alive?" Ed murmured incredulously, as his tantrum subsided.

"Aw," Envy said.

"AWW?" Greed bellowed. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'AWWWWW'? YOU MOTHER(BLEEP)!"

"What about my son?" my wife cried, sobbing, apparently having reverted back to her prior deranged state. "Where had he gone then? I WANT MY SON BACK!"

At that moment, the door swung open, and Pride walked in like nothing happened. "Hello, everybody—"

"SEEEEEEELIM! SELIM! SELIM! SELIM! SELIM! SELIM! SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELIM!" My wife raced to him all theatrically and gathered him up in her arms, squeezing him tightly, like in one of those cheesy reunion moments you would see in the movies.

"See?" I pointed out. "He has two legs which he unfortunately uses to find his own way home."

My wife kissed Pride innumerable times on both cheeks, tearing up and crying and sobbing and wailing and weeping and bawling and I'm just listing anything that has to do with crying.

"I thought you were gone for good!" my wife cried.

"We wanted you to be gone for good," Envy mumbled.

Pride sighed, "No, Mother. I was just playing hide-and-seek when I ended up in Ed's house."

"Wait," Greed started thoughtfully, "you were in Ed's house all along…"

"Correct."

"So, the one that sent that kidnapping letter was..."

At this surprisingly intelligent implication, we revolved around to gaze at Ed, Al and Winry, who were backing away with Pinako. When their backs collided with the wall, blood drained from each of their faces—they must have realized that there was no escape.

"First, trying to rip ten million dollars from me," I murmured, rising from my seat and cracking my knuckles pugnaciously. "And then heading for the twenty-five million dollars, eh?"

"U-um... Um..." Ed stuttered nervously, and quite pathetically.

My wife released Pride and cocked her two guns at them. "You played us as fools, eh?"

"**You better run**," the both of us threatened.

"AAAAHHH!"

* * *

><p><em>The next day...<em>

Things cooled down after we beat the crap out of them four. Like I care if half of 'em were women! (Ed and Pinako were a challenge 'cuz they're so tiny). So yeah, it was pretty fun when we took turns—but Al was kind of hard to deal a satisfying blow to 'cuz he was all metallic.

Anyway, Pride returned (booooo!), and therefore, my wife was all over him so she didn't have time for me (yaaaaaay!) Finally, at long last, for predicament after predicament had plagued me, it was once again time for my ME time.

So, you know how my car got busted and everything? Well, yeah, I got over it 'cuz I just ordered something much better: Zombie Shooter X3, the newest edition where it featured ten times more of zombie-killing fun!

I stuffed my game in my ultra-cool game device and began playing. And, I gotta say, the graphics and controls were so awesome! Even the killings were pretty intense! Man, my guns were effin' bigass, too!

"Pang! Boom! Pang, pang, pang! Whoosh!"

* * *

><p><strong>Lust's POV:<strong>

"I'M BEAUTIFUL, ENVY! WAY TOO BEAUTIFUL!" I screamed. Like seriously, what the f*ck did he want from me? Why did nobody recognize my authentic beauty and come to appreciate it? Well, actually, only Envy was the one being a true, true asshole. Everyone else thinks I'm pretty, right...?

"Wrong," Greed told me when I asked. "You're effin' ugly. Just sayin'."

I smacked him and moved on to Gluttony. "Hey, fatso! I'm beautiful, right?"

Gluttony sniffed. "But you have a strong ugly-witch stench."

He wanted to die early.

I ran up to Wrath after eradicating the fatso. Wrath was jamming his thumbs furiously against the buttons of the, _ugh_, stupid video game device that could totally break your nails. His sight was tenaciously fixed on the screen.

"Hey, Wrath! I'm beautiful, right?"

Wrath completely neglected my presence, desperately wringing that device in his hands, which, in turn, actuated for the avatar in the game to shoot at an abhorrent and grotesque zombie that was in a bad need of a face-lift.

"WRATH! I'M SPEAKING TO YOU!"

He continued to ignore me as if I didn't even exist which made me feel even more ugly! Was I too hideous to be recognized? I exploded into tears and dashed upstairs, sobbing, until I bumped into Pride.

"Pride!" I grabbed his hands. "I-I'm beautiful, right!"

"Um." His eyes wandered elsewhere—

"LOOK AT ME IN THE FACE!"

Pride looked at me directly, and cringed. "But whenever I look at your face... my eyes hurt."

"YOU BITCH!" I wrestled him to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Bradley came out of nowhere.

I patted Pride's head. "And that's how you do a split, okay?" Then, I fled and sobbed, feeling insecure.

* * *

><p><strong>Envy's POV:<strong>

So I totally upset Lust today, and she got all butt-hurt. I wrote it down as one of my top ten accomplishments.

Anyway, we were just lazing about in the living room. I was nurturing my one strand of hair, Gluttony was ravenously chewing on the edge of the sofa, Greed was clipping his toenails, Wrath was playing his video game, and Pride was practicing with his shadows. Sloth was as dead as ever (and somewhere unknown). Lust had ran off for a mani-pedi, and Mrs. Bradley had departed to a local store.

We were all minding our own businesses, when the doorbell rang.

"GET IT, GREED!" I yelled.

"NO! PRIDE, YOU GET IT! IT'S _YOUR _HOUSE!" Greed hollered.

"WASTE OF MY TIME," Pride replied. "GLUTTONY, OPEN THE DOOR!"

Gluttony just chewed on the sofa he found utterly delectable, unaffected by his surroundings.

"ACTUALLY, WRATH, YOU GET IT," Pride said. "IT'S _YOUR_ HOUSE!"

"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" Greed shouted.

"EVERYONE, SHUT THE F*CK UP!" Wrath screamed, finally responding. "CAN'T YOU TELL I'M TRYING TO KILL THE ZOMBIE QUEEN WITH JUST A 22 CALIBER PISTOL, MY FORGED, RUBY LASER BEAM, AND MY MAGIC-ZOMBIE-PROOF REVOLVER? HUH? CAN'T YOU TELL?"

"NO, WE CAN'T TELL!" I screamed back. "'CUZ NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE F*CK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

"THEN, JUST IGNORE THE FREAKIN' DOOR!" Pride suggested, annoyed—even his creepy shadows convoluted and coiled very stiffly and tautly to indicate displeasure. "IT'S PROBABLY SOMEONE UNIMPORTANT!"

We all nodded and resumed what we were doing. The doorbell continued to ring.

"Damn, what if it's my wife?" Wrath asked. "If it's her... no one opens the door!"

We all nodded and resumed what we were doing. The doorbell continued to ring.

"What if it's Ed and stuff?" I inquired.

"If it's Ed—well, it can't be Ed," Wrath denied. "He's on his way to the hospital with his other peeps."

We all nodded and resumed what we were doing. The doorbell continued to ring.

"What if it's Roy Mustang?" I remarked.

"I thought he was all traumatized and stuff," Wrath pointed out. "He's probably still crying in the corner."

We all nodded and resumed what we were doing. The doorbell continued to ring.

I started to ask, "What if it's—"

"HOLY CRAP!" Greed yelled, having peered out the window to check who it was.

"WHAT?" we demanded, not quite appreciative of the mystery that had suddenly occurred.

But, Greed was too busy trying to not pee in his pants. "Oh, shit, shit, shit! IT'S FATHER!"

We gasped for reals.

"FATHER?" I echoed, stupefied with my faculties of senses benumbed. Then, gradually, I regained a bit of my lost composure and managed to articulate, "What the hell is he doing here?"

"Quick!" Wrath shouted. "Everyone act all serious and Homunculus-y!"

Greed propped himself on the ground and frantically blew the toenails under the sofa one by one, obviously stupid enough to not know what a freakin' broom was. Even Gluttony stopped eating, and he and Pride jumped onto the sofa. I tossed my hair product aside and leaped on the sofa, too. Wrath, however, was staring longingly at his game and then decided to proceed with playing.

"What are you doing, Wrath?" I hissed. "Get on the sofa and act serious!"

"I know but... I'm on level 50 and I have to defeat the zombie queen—"

Greed announced, "I'm opening the door now! EVERYONE LOOK EVIL!" We put on our evil faces—or at least I did. Greed's evil face was to squint and wrinkle his nose and gawk really hard at something. It was more like his constipated face.

Greed opened the door and, true to his words, _Father _walked in. Yes, Father, the big bad boss that controlled and manipulated us like pieces of a chess board. He sauntered in all coolly, pushing his long blond hair behind his broad shoulder.

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

"Hello, dear Homunculi! I have come to visit!" I announced, in a booming voice that reverberated throughout the lofty and majestic mansion.

"Hello, Father," Pride greeted, disposed to please him with good manners. "We were just discussing something... evil."

They all nodded at one another wisely, and Envy agreed, "Yep... evil. We were discussing how to like... like drop a bomb on this whole town just for the _fun_ of it. Isn't that like totally evil?"

"Mm, that is... evil," I mused, picking something out from my ear.

"And we're gonna draw on Mustang's face!" Envy included.

"Ooh, eviler," I commented, all impressed.

"Yep, sounds pretty evil to me," Greed supported, while squinting, wrinkling, and staring.

Intrigued by this queer and unsightly behavior, I regarded him. "Hey, what's wrong with your face?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking about something evil," Greed responded, then frowned. "Like when someone gives you a PB&J sandwich, and there's only the PB and you're like 'where the hell is the jelly' and they are like 'oh, we ran out' and you are like 'f*ck you' and they are like 'whatever.' Now that's—that's evil."

He sounded choked up with anger and sadness. Pretending I never heard that—just like how I usually pretend I still have a life (_sighhh_)—I sat down. "Where's Lust?"

"Probably doing something... evil," Envy said dramatically. He added under his breath, "Like showing people her face. Ewww!"

The rest of them snickered quietly in a restrained and cautious fashion, while I pretended I didn't hear anything, and declared, "I want tea."

"Yes, sir," Pride complaisantly answered with obedience, and I was mistaken to believe that he was going to invest the time and effort to complete the warranted task. Offhandedly, he ordered, "Gluttony, get tea."

"Noooo, you get the tea," Gluttony protested, with a disdainful grumble. I sensed a bit of a tension rising, but I wasn't so sure. Just like how I'm not so sure people love me like they used to... _Sighhh._

"No, you get the tea! I'm too busy being evil!" Pride exclaimed. "Actually, Greed, stop squinting and get the tea."

"F*ck no! Who do you think I am? Your slave?" Greed snapped, a vein popping in his temple, in exasperation at being bossed around. "You get it, you little psycho kid. Or Envy, you get it."

"Why are you bald?" I inquired out of genuine curiosity, but everyone ignored me so I dejectedly tugged on my split ends.

"Why do I have to get it?" Envy challenged, springing from his seat. He was evidently prepared to engage in a battle, which was prospective, judging by how things were evolving. "You get it; you can use the exercise!"

Offended, Greed sharply inhaled. "I'm not as fat as Gluttony!"

It was Gluttony's turn to gasp. "Hey, I'm not fat! I'm just really chubby!"

"Whatever, chubby-ass," Envy sneered.

"Why are you making fun of him?" Greed said, sounding relatively nice before he added, "You guys could be _twins! _Both are bald and ugly—"

Utterly vexed, Envy retracted his arm to gain momentum, and then he delivered a well-rounded punch to Greed's face. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING UGLY! I'MMA KILL YOU!"

"Aww, let me see you try to kill me, Envy," Greed mocked, swiftly recovering from the strike, and _plucked the one and only strand left of Envy's hair!_

They all gasped except for Greed and me, who was still low-spirited ever since denied of any form of acknowledgement. Greed allowed for the strand of hair drop to the ground. It slowly descended, fluttering ever so often, and once it touched the ground, it lay there limply.

Envy was horror-stricken. "I-is it... Is it..." He sank to my knees and extended a hand for it apprehensively. "Is it dead?" he whispered.

Pride gripped him by the shoulder to stop him from reaching out, and he grimly shook his head when Envy looked at him. "It's gone, Envy. There's nothing you can do."

"Except laugh!" Greed asserted and began to chortle. "HAHAHAHAHAHA— OOF!"

Envy slammed his leg into Greed's stomach, and the said victim was propelled to the wall at the act of aggression, pinwheeling as he went. "I'MMA KILL YOU FOR MURDERING 'IM!"

"Wait, guys," I intervened, "aren't we supposed to be discussing something evil? And, Wrath, what the hell are you doing?"

Wrath murmured, "Attacking the zombie queen from a long range with my 22 caliber pistol while parrying her little minions who can shoot off deadly needles that when they pierce you, you lose like ten of your health points, man. _Ten_."

I felt stupid for asking, so I hastily reverted my attention to the rest of the Homunculi. I reprimanded their unconventional violence, and advised them to calm the hell down. But, they disregarded me, screaming, biting?, and kicking at one another. Articles of furniture were subject to abuse; they broke and shattered when placed under the Homunculi's fists.

I tried to go between Envy and Greed, the main stimulation of the unreasonable brawl. "You two, stop fighting—"

Envy and Greed socked me in the face. They gasped and quickly withdrew their hands.

_Silence..._

I clenched my fists. "That's it..." I growled. "That is it... You crazy Homunculi..."

"Uh, I would like to reinstate that we came from you, Pops, personality and likewise," Greed noted. "So calling me crazy is just like calling yourself crazy."

I snarled at him.

"I said you're beautiful."

I turned away from him, and he added, "When the lights are all off."

"ARGGGHHH!"

I ripped open my shirt in rage and began emitting deep, guttural sounds and beating my chest with my fists.

"A Tarzan impersonation, or what?" Envy mused.

"No, it's a gorilla, stupid," Pride corrected—

"CORRECTED, MY ASS!" I screamed.

"Um, can you put your shirt back on?" Envy requested. "When you move, your stomach bounces and sags so it's... it's disturbing."

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU HOMUNCULI? YOU GUYS ARE LOCO! YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY AND WILD! I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO—"

"You have a tan line," Greed claimed.

"Where?"

He pointed to my shoulder to show the tan line. Tarnishing my undeniably sublime and immaculate skin was a gradient line that posed as the border between a lighter and darker complexion.

"There is a tan line," Pride murmured heedfully.

"Oh, I see it now," Envy observed.

I nodded, retrieving myself from reflection to elucidate upon this matter, "It's 'cuz I usually wear sleeves so— DON'T TRY TO DISTRACT ME!" I jabbed a finger at each and every one of them, furiously. "YOU LEAVE ME TO NO CHOICE... I HAVE TO FIND A SOLUTION TO ALL THIS... AND THE ONLY WAY IS TO RELY ON..." My voice lowered ominously. "_Him._"

"Him?" Envy pointed to Pride.

"No, not _him_!" I snapped. "The other _him_!"

"Oh, so _him_," Envy pointed to Greed.

"No, not him either!"

"Oh, so you mean _him _as in me," Envy reasoned.

"No, not _him _as in you but him as in _him_."

"Oh, so when you say not him, not him, and not me, then you must mean him as in _him_," Envy pointed to Wrath.

"No, I don't mean the _him_s in this room! It's somewhere else!"

"I don't get it," Envy murmured.

"SHUT UP AND I'LL SHOW YOU. JEEZ!" I took out a compact, platform-like device with a big red button firmly implanted on it, much similar to those in suspenseful movies. "I had this specially made... Once I press this button... it'll take you all with me to _that _place."

"Ew, we don't wanna go to the bathroom with you," Envy said, repulsed. "Or the closet, the bed, the kitchen, the other bathroom, the store, the school, the airport, or the hotel."

"Then, where the hell do you even want to go with me?"

"The park."

"Anyway," I said loudly, "let's go!" I pressed the red button.

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

We ended up in a place that was completely white and void of color. The Homunculi stared around in awe at this enigmatic place, while I simply smirked in a victorious manner that this contraption had worked perfectly fine. I solemnly gazed at each and every one of the confused Homunculi so that I could once again re-instill my authority. "As you can see— WHAT THE F*CK?"

I gasped and pointed at Wrath who was STILL PLAYING HIS FREAKIN' VIDEO GAME!

"WHAT IS THIS?" I cried. "HOW THE HELL DID THE WHOLE FREAKIN' TV CAME ALONG? HOW, HUH? HOW? IT'S NOT EVEN PLUGGED IN!"

Wrath ignored me and continued to forcibly twist his video game device, frantically trying to jump across revolving platforms to evade the zombie queen. "Come on, baby, go, go, go!"

I rummaged through my pockets and popped an aspirin in my mouth.

"Welcome, Father."

I revolved to see the one and only: Truth. I had never been so happy. "TRUTH! I NEED YOUR HELP!" I skipped to him and leaped into his arms exultantly.

Envy whispered, "We must be watching the uncensored version of Dorks Gone Wild."

Greed said, "It must be rated P for People Who Can Hold Their Barf In."

The Homunculi snickered to themselves.

"SHUT UP!" I hollered. "Truth, I need your help to teach and discipline them how to be Homunculus-y again!"

"Do not fret," Truth declared, "because Truth is here!"

* * *

><p><strong>Truth's POV:<strong>

Huh, how to teach them to be Homunculus-y again? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. This should be a piece of cake! After all, these were merely the Homunculi. All beings in this petty universe are under my divine control and perception. With a little reasoning from me, they will start acting normally again in no time at all! I guarantee!

I told Father to shoo to the side, which he did, and I stepped up to the Homunculi. I inspected their disgruntled visages, and palpable unwillingness to linger in this realm any longer. "I can see why you are all acting up," I stated emphatically—

"How can you see?" Greed asked. "Dude, you have no eyes!"

For a second there, I thought I felt... a murderous intent? No, impossible. I am the Truth, I am God, I am the universe, and I am also you, yadda, yadda.

I cleared my throat. I already had this problem all figured out and analyzed in every way possible; it was really not complex since the Homunculi refer to that man over there as "Father."

"May I ask... when was the last time you have seen your Father before today?"

"Umm," Gluttony contemplated briefly, then he murmured, "157 days ago."

"I see." I bobbed my head very discreetly. "I understand the problem now..."

"What is it?" Father questioned, with curiosity.

"Yeah, what is it?" the Homunculi urged, inquisitive to know what others think of their "issues."

I stared at them seriously, for a melodramatic moment. "You all...

"You all missed your Father."

There ensued a disturbing silence, before _that_:

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! HAHAHA! HAHAHA!" the Homunculi began _laughing._

"Are you done—"

"HAHA! HAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!"

They rofl'ed.

"HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Hey, cease your laughter—"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Stop!"

"HAHAHAHA!"

"Hey, you people!"

"HA!"

Their incredibly annoying laughter, which would surely haunt and mock me for the next few years, finally terminated, and they wiped their tears and recollected their senses.

Battling to maintain equanimity, I cleared my throat again for attention. "It's common for people who regard a particular someone as their parental figure to miss him or her if the said individual has a prolonged disappearance—"

"Are you f*cking kidding me?" Envy shouted. "Those were the best 157 days of my life!"

Father gasped and _hmph_ed, indignantly folding his arms and sticking up his nose.

"Okay, okay, then!" I quickly exclaimed. I refuse to look stupid! "I know another reason why you're rioting... It's because you feel like you're missing something from your life."

"No, we _want _something missing from our life!" Envy said, glowering at Greed, Pride, Gluttony and Wrath. Man, that boy can really make enemies.

"Now," I began gravelly, "I can fix that for you. I can get rid of something unpleasant and replace it with something closer to preference. As long as it follows the rule of... **equivalent exchange!**"

"Great," Pride muttered flatly. "I'll exchange Wrath for a cookie."

"I said equivalent exchange!"

"Fine!" the kid Homunculus grumbled. "I'll exchange him for _two _cookies."

Greed commented, "I'll exchange Ling for a sexy Chinese woman."

Envy said, "I'll exchange Father for a Mother." He laughed at his own joke.

Gluttony announced, "And I'll exchange food for more food."

"I SAID EQUIVALENT EXHANGE!" I bellowed, losing my cool. Breathing hard, I pointed to Wrath impatiently. "How about you, huh?"

Wrath muttered, "I'll exchange my 25 bonus mana points and bejeweled rare flying boots for level 4 magic-zombie-proof laser beam and a way to defeat the zombie queen."

"Act—actually," I said, "you're defeating her wrong. You have to approach her with the combo of X, Y, and then B, not X and then A."

"Yeah, but if I get close, she'll—"

"—break the cursed steel sword," the both of us completed simultaneously.

"That's why you use your level 3A zombie-proof laser beam to attack her first and _then_ you pull out your cursed steel sword!" I advised.

"Ohhhhh!" Wrath cried out.

"Yep, and if you do that seven more times, she weakens and you—"

"—steal her crown!" we both finished again at the same time.

"Thanks, man!" Wrath gratefully said.

"Yeah, no biggie! I got stuck on that, too, when I first bought that game. Now, I'm up against the zombie king!"

Wrath sucked in his breath in disbelief. "No way. Hell no. Y-you're trippin'. The zombie king is only available in the rare edition."

"I _got _the rare edition."

"Where's the ice 'cuz you're tripping all over the place, man!"

"I can let you borrow it sometime."

"Really? Oh, my God, that's awesome—"

"Truth!" Father snapped angrily. "You're supposed to be helping the Homunculi!"

"I am—"

"Not with a freakin' video game, you _frustra stultus! [Useless fool!] _I give you a simple assignment and you _quia defecerunt, stultus [failed it, fool]! Ego te nunc demens! [I am so mad at you right now!]"_

"Guess we know where Wrath learned his Latin from," Envy muttered.

I sighed and reported, "Look, I know the Homunculi's problem. They have trouble... getting along with people."

"_Nooooo_," Father grumbled sarcastically. "'Cuz I didn't realize, when they punched me in the face!"

Expunging the memory of his satirical attitude from my mind—weren't we even friends anymore?—I proclaimed, "And, I have a solution to fix this. I can recommend a therapist for the Homunculi."

"WHAT?" the Homunculi bellowed in unison. "We don't need therapy— Hey, stop saying everything I'm saying at the exact time and pace! Okay, stop! Stop right now! I hate sounding the same with you people! Argh!"

"Yeah, these Homunculi don't need _therapy_," Father scoffed. "That is for those close to rehab."

"I SAID STOP SAYING EVERYTHING THE SAME AS ME!" the Homunculi shouted to one another. "HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THAT? WHAT ARE YOU, PSYCHIC?"

"Actually, what's that therapist's phone number?"

* * *

><p><strong>Greed's POV:<strong>

"F*ck, man. F*ck, f*ck, f*ck. Great, we had to act all 'crazy' and now... we're stuck _here._"

We were in the therapist's waiting room. Wrath's hands were itching and twitching since he was prohibited from playing his beloved video game. Pride was bored like hell, rocking back and forth on his chair until Mrs. Bradley told him to stop. She just _had_ to come along because she could finally try to get us to be a "united, happy, and harmonious family." In fact she was merrily knitting a blanket that read: "united, happy, and harmonious." Damn, I never held such passionate hatred for three words before.

Gluttony was not allowed to eat so he was _not _in a good mood. Envy was checking himself out in the mirror, adjusting his cap to hide his baldness. Lust—to hell with whatever she went, and Father was humming happily on a chair, glad that there existed a chance to "fix" us.

Damn, I was the only normal one here.

_Wow, you think you're normal, Greed?_ Ling spoke_. You need therapy, too._

I muttered under my breath, "Well, I'm sorry I can't be normal with a grown man living inside my body!"

I said that a bit too loud, and Mrs. Bradley looked at me like I was creepy.

Anyway, a patient before us was taking forever in the therapist's office, and we had to wait until he or she got out. I groaned. Wrath twitched. Pride rocked. Mrs. Bradley knitted. Gluttony growled. His stomach did, too. Envy checked himself out. Father hummed.

It was awkwardly quiet.

"So," I began.

"...So," Pride answered.

"Haha, so-so. It's something you say if someone asks you how your day was. 'Hey, how was your day, man?' 'So-so, brother!'"

Pride blinked at me. "Yeah... Sure... Whatever."

_See, normal people don't explain what 'so-so' is, _Ling argued.

"Shut up, stop talking to me! Argh, that voice inside my head, man!" I grouched aloud, clenching my head.

Mrs. Bradley stared at me, wide-eyed, for a long time.

The therapist's office door suddenly opened (thank the Lords). "Finally," I whispered.

"You're right," a female voice said. "Thank you, doctor. I am beautiful, I am special, and I am smart!" She giggled. "I am beautiful! I am beautiful! I am beautiful!"

She turned around to see us, and for us to see her.

Lust.

We all stared at her, and she, in turn, stared at us.

"Uhh," Lust mumbled, looking around the room, "where am I? Am I in the wrong place! Haha, I think I am! I'm supposed to be at that place... yep, that other place. Not this place though! Silly Lust!"

"Trix are for kids," Envy finished.

Lust gave him a face and scurried off.

"Okay..." I heaved myself up from my seat. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."

We went in the therapist's office, and the man behind the desk was...

Kimblee.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to the encouraging reviewers: Fluehatraya, Some Random Reader, FullmetalFan870, Yeah I'm Cool, NINjaJuUtsu, and Randomguy9.**


	5. Evaluation Only Gives You a Headache

**Crazy - Chapter 5: _Evaluation Only Gives You a Headache_**

**A/N: GREETINGS.**

**I know that when you checked that email of yours and received the notification that ****_Crazy_**** was recently updated, it must have been an unforeseeable surprise.**

**It has, indeed, been a fairly long time. Three quarters of a year since the last update. To clarify, uploaded on 9 March 2013, this is the new chapter five. (Which, if you have noticed, I have obliterated the filler because, well, fillers are useless and annoying; I was taught a lesson when I read this one fic that I liked, but the author decided to waste chapter space to include fillers when, really, all I wanted was to get on with the storyline... and, it got me pissed. Never again would I do that to ****_Crazy _****readers, and I'm sorry ya'll had to put with it; I was transitioning through a stage of stupidity back then.)**

**I am ashamed, very much so, of the quality of my writing last year... let's be honest, my grammar was atrocious. I simply could not stand it, and I had to go back and revise all of the previous chapters. Nowadays, I just have the tendency to make things very complex, but I've deliberately abstained from that habit here.**

**Anyway, writer's block and procrastination, they have been incredibly dreadful. I'm surprised I managed to finish this chapter. I'm not going to be fishing blindly for plot ideas from you all like I used to because that was a childish and lazy way of writing. From now on, I'll write in correlation to what ****_my_**** vision of the story should be, at the pace that pleases me. Thank you for all your support; I hope you still enjoy ****_Crazy_**** as much as I enjoy writing it.**

**Warning: You know the drill, pure and utter crack and BS situations. Been that way since chapter one.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.**

* * *

><p><strong>Kimblee's POV:<strong>

Everybody knows me. I'm the infamous therapist that can fix any loco person's psychological problems. Due to my work, I've earned many notorious nicknames: Dream Crusher, Evil B*tch, Lala, Tasasa—you name it! OK, they may not be entirely pleasant, but that's only because of my dedication to my job. I make sure I rewire their brains, and I make sure I do some permanent damage—help.

Anyway, anyway, as the awesome therapist that I am, I maintain character profiles on all of my patients in order to study them up, take noteworthy information, and so on and so forth. My first client of the day was surprisingly that (whore) Lust, but I dealt with her pretty quickly. All I had to do was lie and say she's beautiful, and she zipped on out of here.

Lust

Age: Close estimate – somewhere around the Jurassic period

Weight: Slim

Notable features: Big boobs; one bulging eye

Issue: Finally realizes how ugly she is, and is going through stages of denial

Status: Issue resolved

I smiled and was about to pack up my crap and scoot on home, when _they_ entered: the rest of the Homunculi.

Oh, ho.

"Please help us!" Father roared, vehemently pounding his fists on my desk. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. "I mean, please help _them_. They're like my babies—no, they _are_ my babies—but they're mentally deranged creatures!"

"Who have feelings..." Envy added under his breath.

Wrath grimaced. "Who're ya callin' your baby?"

Mrs. Bradley bustled out from behind Wrath to clasp her hands together in the form of a plead. "Oh, dear Lord! I'm so glad that there is someone who is willing to extend help to these... people. Please, help my husband. He has a bit of a problem."

"Hey!" Wrath snapped. "I happen to have a lotta problems. One of them is a certain 'Mrs. Bradley.'"

"Oh, the Mrs. Bradley in South Africa?" Greed perked up.

"Nah, I like her. She's hot. I'm talking about this 'Mrs. Bradley' here. The old one."

"Ohhh."

"How dare you, Bradley!" Mrs. Bradley burst into ear-grating sobs.

Pride theatrically sucked in a breath of air as if gasping in horror. "Don't talk about Mommy like that, _Dad_!"

Nonchalantly, Wrath examined his chipped nails. "Females under four feet are not allowed to speak."

To everyone's surprise, the kid's composure crumbled away, and he seethed, balling up his hands into fists, "You did not know. No, you _do not know_! What kind of a father are you if you do not know?"

"I'll know if you tell me what ya want me to know. The issue here is if I'll listen."

"I _grew_, Bradley! I grew one bloody inch yesterday night! I'm now four feet and one inch! Measure me!" Pride extended his arms and lifted his chin haughtily to gaze into Wrath's eyes with fierceness.

The muscles around Wrath's face had frozen into an everlasting grimace. "Excuse me while I refuse."

"Yeesh," Envy muttered. "They were right when they said there's nothing more dangerous than a short person with something to prove."

Greed used his tongue to excavate the breaches between his teeth for leftover food. When a particular sweetness tinged his tongue, mellowing it with flavor, he sighed happily. "Yeah... I wonder who's 'they,' though. Who's that 'they' guy that's always spreading rumors?"

"I'm hungry," Gluttony proposed all of a sudden, not that anyone cared.

"You're always hungry," Envy sneered.

"Daddy, can I take a bite?" Gluttony asked, his bulky palm fondly patting Father's blond hair.

"NO!" Father shrieked and pulled back his hair from the fatso's grip. "Do not touch the hair! It's golden. You do not touch the freaking hair, all right? If you touch it, you'll contaminate it." He scrunched up his face in a nasty scowl. "And then I won't be on par with that Van Hohenheim guy."

"Oh... my God!" Greed exclaimed, evidently astonished with his eyebrows shooting up. "No wonder you look familiar, old man! Damn, guys, guys! Guess what? Guess what? Guess what? He looks _exactly_ like Ed's dad! I mean look at him—he's the spitting image! Holy sh*t! I thought cloning was illegal! Holy macaroni. This is certainly... wow... This sh*t... wow, I-I'm taken back. This is boss, man."

The Homunculi stared at him. "You just noticed now?" Wrath asked. "Wow... we should be giving out shiny little medals for the smartest guy here so we don't have to waste our precious time talking to dumbasses."

"Language, Bradley!" Mrs. Bradley warned sternly.

"All I said was 'dumbasses!' I sure said a hell lot worse before, and you never said nuthin' about it!"

Her left eye twitched erratically, and everyone stepped away from the swinging zone. "You say that _word_ one more time, and—"

"Dumb-asses," Wrath boldly repeated with a smirk.

"AAAAAH!" She violently grabbed him by the collar and lifted him. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY IT, AND NOW YOU WENT AND SAID IT!" The insane woman began to thump him against the wall, frightening everyone else by the abrupt display of aggression.

Greed nudged Pride. "Dude! Your mom is beating up your dad! Aren't you going to help?"

"No, my mom should be enough."

"HEY!" I shouted when the collision of Wrath's face against my wall knocked down some of the goddamn beautiful pictures of my family. "DON'T COME IN HERE AND MESS UP MY OFFICE! PLACE THE PICS OF MY DEAR FAMILY BACK TO WHERE YOU FOUND THEM, PLEASE! YOU BREAK, YOU PAY; THAT'S MY POLICY!"

Envy picked up a picture from the ground and pointed at it. "This is a cat."

"I know," I said proudly. "I adopted her. Her name is XxxResisimo Fruncho ClaizxxX. Cute, huh? I named it myself."

"What the hell is with the 'Xxx' bordering the name? Is it really necessary!?"

"Don't judge my kittens!" I hollered. After popping an aspirin in my mouth, my annoyance was mollified, and I settled down. Calmly, I folded my hands on my desk to establish the "I'm a professional" impression. "Now, already, I can tell that—"

"YOU DON'T LOVE ME, BRADLEY! THAT'S WHY YOU DON'T LISTEN TO ME! YOU SAID THAT WORD! YOU SAID _THAT WORD_!"

"Ahem, that you all are—"

"WHY ARE WE EVEN MARRIED? YOU DON'T LOVE ME! I FEEL SUPER UNLOVED!"

"Hey, tell your mom to shut it back there or take it outside!" I yelled at Pride, having lost my patience. "I don't want to clean up any blood later!"

Pride narrowed his eyes at me. "If you continue to uphold this insolence while addressing me, I'm afraid we will have a strife sooner or later. I have a feeling that somehow... I will swallow you with my shadows in the near future—I-I don't know. It's just a feeling. I've been having these visions recently."

"You, psychic?" Envy questioned with a derisive snort. "You sure didn't 'foresee' me putting make-up on you."

"I feel as though we have gone off-topic," I cut in before Pride can hurl a piercing glare at Envy. "Now, as I was saying— Hey, you!" I jabbed a finger at Gluttony who was chewing on his own hand to satiate his hunger. "You leave any crumbs in my office, and I swear, I will personally harm you."

Reverting back to my conversation at hand, I proclaimed loudly to overlap their voices so that they can hear the important announcement, "I can tell that you all are demented, some on a more severe level than others. I will not name names, but I will give you a hint: it starts with 'all of you.'"

"All of us?" Father echoed. "Why all of us? It's only the Homunculi, right?"

"No, _all_ of you are mentally challenged. Yes, that includes Mrs. Bradley," I informed in a blunt, matter-of-fact manner.

"We can say that that last part is a given," Wrath huffed, nervously wringing his neck as if to check if it was still attached. Sadly, it was.

Mrs. Bradley, who seemed to have finally calmed down, was horrified. "B-but..."

"Do not worry, though," I appeased. "I will handle this. I am a certified therapist after all."

"Tch," Pride scoffed arrogantly. "As if we Homunculi would stoop low enough to acknowledge you as our therapist. We do not need one. What if we do not wish to be cured, eh? Ever thought of that? Didn't see that coming, did you, Mr. Oh-oh-ha-I'm-a-therapist-Therapist? What if we happen to enjoy each other's insanity?"

"Hey, guys!" Gluttony called with a goofy grin on his features. "I realized that if you stick your finger far up your nose, it hurts! See?"

"Ew! Ew! OK, ew!" Greed shouted. "Holy mother... He's pulling it out! Oh, God... He pulled— Oh, what is that _thing_ on his finger? N-no, it's OK, Gluttony, you don't have to bring it closer to me. I can see it pretty good for this distance. Did you just... Oh, my God."

"Don't use God's name in vain!" Mrs. Bradley reprimanded.

"Well, I'm sor-_ry_."

"I have changed my mind," Pride announced.

"Excellent! Does the new one work better?" I asked and barked out a laugh. When he glared at me, I quickly moved on, "All right, then. I take it that you all accept my service. But before we commence our constructive sessions, I'll need you to sign this." I whipped out a contract and nudged it across the desk to them.

Wrath scrutinized it curiously, but after viewing the lengthy paragraphs, he grew bored. "What does it say?"

"Oh, nothing, really," I said, sweeping my hand in the air negligently. "It's just a few things about how I am not responsible for any undesirable aftereffects, yadda yadda. Details, baby, details."

The Homunculi exchanged meaningful glances, and after a few shrugs, they passed it around to apply their signatures. Once that was done, they returned the document, and I rolled it up protectively.

Envy snickered to Greed, "Just in case, I signed my name as Bob Herbertstein."

Greed laughed, "Just in case, I signed my name as Envy."

"That totally dispelled the whole point of me using an alias, you b*tch!"

"Hey, hey! I never forced you to use an alias. You decided that yourself. So who's the dumbass now, eh?"

"DON'T SAY THAT WORD!" Mrs. Bradley scolded.

"That word," Envy challenged audaciously.

Mrs. Bradley smiled. "OK, good, sweetie."

"Don't try to be a smartass around her," Wrath advised to a groaning Envy. "There's no point in that 'cuz she never effin' gets it!"

"Now, to the people that are actually paying attention to me," I said, but no one turned to me except for Gluttony. Everyone else was arguing about something worthless, as per usual. "All right then. So, Fatso, my procedure is that I work with individuals then groups if that is required. Hence, who wants to have a go with Kimblee first, eh?"

* * *

><p>Envy<p>

Age: Close estimate – somewhere around the time my grandmother was born. My grandmother's dead.

Weight: Skinny-ish

Notable features: Shiny, bald head

"OK," I muttered, while tapping my pencil thoughtfully against my clipboard. An idea manifested in my mind, and I began to draw little kitty cat ears at the edge of my paper. So cute.

"Hellooooo?" Envy called, waving his hand frantically.

"Hi."

Issue: Creepiness - loves to say hi to people

"So... what's your prob, bro?" I formed a body for the cat, and drew fur by stroking by pencil in a hasty, to and fro motion.

"Um..." Envy glanced around tentatively, and after ascertaining that the only members in this magnificent office were us, he released a relieved sigh. Nervously, he rubbed his hands together. "Um... so you'd better not tell anyone about this!"

"Uh-huh... and how do you feel about that?" I drew a button nose for the cat. So cute.

"What?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No... not at all. I guess I'd feel... awful?"

"Mm. Interesting." Now, the eyes! Oh, how I cannot resist the adorable eyes illustrated by graphite lead! They are so twinkly, so captivating when underscored by that grey hue.

"OK, so here's my problem..." Envy said, having lowered in voice into a hesitant whisper. At this, I was intrigued, and I inclined forward to show my encouragement for him to go on. "I... OK, so here's my problem..."

"I get that already."

"OK, here goes my problem."

"Let's hear it."

"All right, now this... this is my problem..."

"Do you want to get stabbed in the eyeball?"

"OK, here goes nothing!"

"You're gonna lose something if you don't get the hell on with it."

Envy breathed, "I... I have short term memory loss. I also have short term memory loss."

Issue: Creepiness – loves to say hi to people; short term memory loss – apparently, you can have it twice

"Thank you very much for your patience. I assure you, I'll do everything in my power to aid you on your road to recovery—I won't lie to you, it will not be easy." I reached over and patted his hand sympathetically. "But it is not impossible. However, for now, I'll have to ask you to leave. Please step outside to the hallway, and call another person in."

* * *

><p>Gluttony<p>

Age: Must be really old – no one can get that big of a stomach without years of stuffing up for the winters

Weight: Off the scale

Notable features: Belly; his nose – it's gigantic

"OK," I muttered, preparing a rough draft for my visual representation of a cluster of kittens in a basket. So cute. "So what's your prob, bro?"

The pudgy Homunculus gazed down at the ground forlornly. "I actually don't like it when my bros and sis pick on me. I don't feel so good. I don't know why I can't fit in with them. I know I'm a little slow and I eat a lot, but that's all I really know how to do. That, and professional wrestling."

Issue: Loner

I was astounded to hear something deep and profound out of a Homunculus' mouth. "Wow, that's something that can happen in real life! I'm impressed!"

Bemused, he cocked his head to the side. "Isn't this real life?"

"Sure. Anyway, that was pretty intense. You can be like a freaking writer for all I care!"

"I am, actually. I go by the pen-name M.S. Growling. It stands for My Stomach's Growling."

"No way! You wrote Führer Potter? I'm your biggest fan! I'm a premium subscriber to your official website. Can I get a picture?" Without waiting his consent, I snapped a photo of us. Admiring how it developed nicely in the camera, I murmured, "XxxResisimo Fruncho ClaizxxX is gonna love this! She read all of your released books!"

"Er, e-excuse me, Mr. Kimblee, do I—"

"Oh, right, right, what was I thinking? Can I have your autograph, too?"

"Um, sir, can you help me with my problem?"

"Oh..." My enthusiasm was swift to fade. "Thank you very much for your patience. I assure you, I'll do everything in my power to aid you on your road to recovery—I won't lie to you, it will not be easy." I reached over and patted his hand sympathetically. "But it is not impossible. However, for now, I'll have to ask you to leave. Please step outside to the hallway, and call another person in."

* * *

><p>Greedling<p>

Age: Two men combined = old

Weight: 300-400 pounds – give or give a hundred

Notable features: Weird ponytail; kind of Xing-ish

"OK," I muttered, resuming my design of the kittens in a woven basket. So cute. "So what's your prob, bro?"

Greed, however, was all hyped up and jittery. He could barely retain the exhilaration, and he was squirming around in his seat. "I-I d-dunno! I'm perfectly O to the K, can't you see? I'm awesome, as per usual. Just the same ol' Greed, whattaya know?"

I caught hold of a queer scent emanating from him, and I sniffed the air inquisitively with my nostrils flaring like in action heroes' poses. "Hmm... what a pungent smell. Kind of sweet—"

"YOU CANNOT HAVE ANY, MISTER!" Greed bellowed, rising to his feet in a belligerent manner.

"Have any what? I didn't say anything..."

"Oh, ho~ Oh, ho, ho—"

"Are you calling me a ho?" I demanded.

"No, I was snickering evilly like you do when realization hits. Don't interrupt. Oh, ho, ho~ Oh, ho, ho, ho~"

"Yeah... I have a fixed schedule, so unless this—"

"I know what you're doing!" Greed claimed triumphantly, pointing right at my nose, making my nostrils deflate at the gesture. He had a maniacal look of some sort blazing in his eyes. "You're doing some kind of reverse psychology so that you can lure me into admitting that I have a secret. Well, lemme tell you, it's not going to work! I do not have a secret."

Nonchalantly, I twirled the pencil around my hand while envisaging how many kittens would fit in a dainty basket. "So what I'm supposing here is that you have a secret."

"Good God," Greed breathed, sinking down in his seat as if dejected. "You're good."

"I am not a certified therapist for nothing," I said rather haughtily. "So what is your secret—"

"Ah, ha!" Greed yelled, jumping out of the chair again. "I know what you're doing... AGAIN, whahaha! You make it so damn obvious, Kimblee. Or should I say sneaky-therapist-that-just-wants-a-taste-of-what-I -am-hiding?"

"You shouldn't say anything at all."

"Hmph, well, you can't get pass me!" he claimed, arrogantly crossing his arms. "This is for me, and for me alone! You can't have none!"

"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."

Issue: Blabbing idiot

"Man, this reverse psychology chiz sucks because I see right through it! Anyway, you can write down on your lil' thing there that the talented Greed here will not fall for your half-assed psychological shit."

Suddenly, Greed twitched as if suffering from a spasm. He hastily whirled around and furtively lifted his jacket. I heard the sound of gobbling and munching, and then after a blatant swallow, Greed faced me again. This time, creamy fillings were spread around his lips, and his tongue darted out sporadically to snatch some of that off his skin.

"Yep," Greed sighed, rubbing his stomach with satisfaction, "you got nuthin' on me."

"...Greed, do you have eating problem? Perhaps an addiction to—"

"It's been rough, man!" the Homunculus sobbed. "I-I want to stop, but IT'S SO GOOD! Man, I don't want to be like Gluttony! But I cannot stop! It's too good. It's too good. Me, no self-control. I cannot resist the temptation every time I rip open the wrapper, dude. The crispy exterior layer, the vanilla silkiness tucked within, the alluring fragrance of a well-baked treat—they're taunting me! But, hubba hubba, I'm willing to be taunted, if you catch my drift."

"Mm. And how do you feel about that?"

"...Were you not listening?"

Issue: Blabbing idiot; addiction to sweets

"Thank you very much for your patience. I assure you, I'll do everything in my power to aid you on your road to recovery—I won't lie to you, it will not be easy." I reached over and patted his hand sympathetically. "But it is not impossible. However, for now, I'll have to ask you to leave. Please step outside to the hallway, and call another person in."

* * *

><p>Father<p>

Age: B.C.

Weight: Pretty plump, minus the "pretty"

Notable features: Clone of Van Hohenheim

"OK," I muttered, retrieving crayons out of my drawer to color my at long last finished sketch of the sleeping kittens. So cute. "So what's your prob, bro?"

"Why do you need crayons while taking notes?" Father asked, intrigued.

"Taking notes...? Oh! Oh, right, that's what I'm doing. Taking notes. Yeah, I'll do the questioning around here, bro. What's your problem?"

Father raised his hands as if to indicate his surrender, and then he began to weep, "I was just asking! You didn't have to be so cruel about it!"

My years of experience as a skilled therapist warned me that there was the problem was bubbling to its surface. "All I said was I was going to do the—"

"You're so damn patronizing! Everyone is so damn patronizing!" Father cried. "No one likes me at all! What am I... a _bad_ guy to them?"

"Uh... yeah. If you haven't realized it yet, you're the one you started the whole 'Promised Day' conundrum. You know, the cliché destruction and ruling of the world."

"I just wanted to get noticed!"

"You could have sought to become a movie star—"

"Nobody pays attention to me!" Father continued, overlapping my voice with his and a sharp smack on the arm of the chair. "People would walk up to me and say, 'Oh, hey, Van!' I would be like 'Bitch, I ain't Van! I'm Father!' And you know what they'd do? They'd _laugh_! Right in my face!"

"So, in other words, you feel—"

"Sometimes those two Elric brothers would run up to me, crying 'Dada!' I would be like 'Bitches, I am a Father, but I never helped give birth to you!' A-and then once they realized that I'm not Van, they'd be like 'Oh, you're the _other_ guy' and they'd just walk away!"

"What, did you think they'd go hug you or—"

"Like, what the hell does 'other guy' even mean, eh?" Father bellowed hysterically. "What's with the vaguely degrading note infused into their tones, eh? What the hell is this label 'other guy.' I did not f*cking live the first decades of my life in a flask, only to be called some 'other guy,' you get me?"

"Sir, perhaps you should—"

"And this is the most ridiculous part!" he shouted. "Truth, you know, my best friend—or at least I _thought_ he was my best friend—told me that the reason why not a lot of people like me is because I keep interrupting them while they talk!"

"Uh, well—"

"Shh! I'm talking! Anyway, you know what I told him? I told him that it was _so_ not cool, and it was totally uncool anyway for him to treat me like that! Like, if you got something to say, say it to my face, you know?"

"Didn't he already say it to your—"

"Anyway," Father said, brushing his lustrous blond hair back from his broad shoulder, "what were we talking about again?"

"...Crayons."

Issue: Inferiority complex; KEEPS ON DAMN INTERRUPTING ME; signs of a bipolar disorder

"Thank you very much for your patience. I assure you, I'll do everything in my power to aid you on your road to recovery—I won't lie to you, it will not be easy." I reached over and patted his hand sympathetically. "But it is not impossible. However, for now, I'll have to ask you to leave. Please step outside to the hallway, and call another person in."

* * *

><p>"Oh, so all three of you at once?" I asked, glancing at Wrath, Pride, and Mrs. Bradley, who sat down in their respective seats.<p>

"Yes," Mrs. Bradley ascertained. "I think it would be healthy for this family if we communicate with one another on a deeper level. It would benefit us greatly if we can work out the ruffles in our relationship."

"I'm psychic," Pride declared.

"Do you have floss?" Wrath asked. "But, I can settle for a nice bottle of wine. Red wine, please. And I want something strong."

Mrs. Bradley glowered at him in a reprehending manner to berate his discourtesy. "Please excuse him. See, that is the main issue that is breaking apart our family! He is an alcoholic, and no matter what I do, he will not quit drinking!"

"Breaking apart our family?" Wrath repeated incredulously. "Woman, you've been drowning yourself in too much soap opera. How does drinking have to do anything with the fact that our family sucks?"

"Like, around two in the morning, that's when I start to get these visions," Pride explained. "They're vivid and detailed, it's... it's breathtaking, to tell you the truth."

"It has everything to do with the fact that our family bond is disintegrating as we speak!" Mrs. Bradley claimed, choking back a sob. "You drink too much."

"Woman, you get on my case too much. That's why that rash keeps comin' back."

I finished coloring the basket with a beautiful tawny color, and cleared my throat to regain the married couple's attention. "So, what I am getting from this is that, Bradley, you drink to an exceeding level."

"Uh, nuh-uh. I drink moderately. By 'moderately,' I mean however much it takes to drown out the both of 'em. And it's not as if it ain't beneficial. I swear to God, if we put those 'lost children' pics on beer cans instead of milk cartons, then whooey, we'd find 'em in about fifteen minutes flat."

"So, these visions would grapple me, sort of like claws. Is it strange, Doctor?" Pride asked.

Wrath made a face. "You see why I would wanna drown out their noises? This kid is weird as hell."

"Do not talk about our son that way, Bradley!" Mrs. Bradley disapproved.

"I think I'm psychic."

Wrath rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. "See? She tires me out just by talking, Doc. Ya gotta do something to seal her mouth shut. You got some duct tape you keep around here somewhere besides these creepy cat pictures—"

"THEY ARE NOT CREEPY!" I roared, standing up. "THEY ARE CUTE AND CUDDLY! THESE FELINE ANIMALS ARE FREAKIN' ADORABLE. PLEASE GO TO A PET STORE NEAR YOU, AND ADOPT ONE! THEY NEED TO BE RESCUED AND GIVEN TO A GOOD HOME WITH A LOVING FAMILY, ASAP!"

An awkward silence filled the air while they gawked at me.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm psychic," Pride continued after a brief moment of consideration. "I mean who else gets visions? I'm sure you don't! But I do. So I'm unique, as always. I'm psychic. I can predict the future."

With one hand, Wrath pushed him off the chair, and then snickered. "Did ya see that comin'?"

The kid responded with a menacing glare, which signaled for shivers to crawl down my spine. His eyes glowered with such intensity and keenness that everyone else seemed to have shrunk back in size.

"Oh, my!" Pride exclaimed, clapping a hand upon his forehead as he unstably stumbled to and fro. "I think I'm having another vision... And, that includes your death, Bradley!"

Wrath's nostrils flared—totally copying my _thang_ ain't cool. "Bring it!"

Mrs. Bradley gasped when they raised their hands dramatically in the air. Their hands clenched into fists, the knuckles rippling at the compression.

"Countdown from three, we shall commence..." Pride whispered.

"Fourteen..." Wrath said.

"Retard. Three..."

"Twenty-seven."

"Two."

"Three."

"Please, stop!" Mrs. Bradley shrieked.

"...One!"

Their hands came striking down at a terrifying speed, and Mrs. Bradley yelped in horror.

"ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS!"

"I CHOOSE ROCK!"

"NOOO, BUGGER! _I_ CHOOSE ROCK!"

"I SAID ROCK FIRST!"

"I THOUGHT ROCK FIRST!"

"DOESN'T COUNT—START OVER!"

They beat their fists against the air once again, counting to three.

"I MAKE ROCK COOL."

"I MAKE ROCK _ROLL_, HA!"

"OH, YEAH? WELL, I TURN ROCKS INTO STONES. _PHILOSOPHER_ STONES!"

"O-OK, THAT WAS GOOD."

"THAT WAS, HUH?"

"Y-YEAH, I WAS SPEECHLESS FOR A SEC. I... I WAS LIKE, 'HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT? IT'S SO GOOD.'"

"THE BESTEST."

"OK, NOW THAT WASN'T SO COOL."

"I KNOW, BUT I DIDN'T REALLY... COULDN'T REALLY SAY ANYTHING WITTY AT THAT MOMENT, YOU KNOW? YOU GOT ME LIKE, YOU GOT ME LIKE THINKING."

"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

We all paused to glance at the person who was hollering her head off, which was none other than Mrs. Bradley.

"M-Mom—"

"AAAAAHH!"

"Hey, look, woman, what're you—"

"AHH."

"Saying it with a period lessens the volume, you know."

"HHA."

"That's not even a word—"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I screamed at the threesome. "You wasted like f*cking two minutes of my life! And, you even made people scroll down to read your prolonged nonsense. How shameful!"

They articulated something incoherent between their sighs, before setting their asses back down on the chairs. I exhaled sharply while shaking my head. "OK, you all need to remember to shut up, and refrain from kicking toddlers off chairs! I'll have to take matters into my own hands. I'll talk with your child first, since his problem seems to be seriously serious. Then I'll talk with the unhappy couple individually later."

Discontent, Wrath and Mrs. Bradley grumbled yet another something-something under their breaths and stepped outside my office. Pride twiddled with the hem of his shirt and brushed dirt—that MUST be nonexistent, because my dear office was clean—off his clothing.

"I'm psychic."

_Now it starts._

Pride

Age: Don't let the looks fool you. I don't care what people say, this kid is not 8. He is a Homunculus. He is AT LEAST 10 years old.

Weight: Got no meat on those chopsticks for arms

Notable features: Damn short

Issue: Bent on the idea that he's psychic

So, you know what, I might as well start on another draft of my kitties. LOLsocoolxxX, who was XxxResisimo Fruncho ClaizxxX's cousin's friend's neighbor's roommate's lover's kid, would really love the pictures I dedicate to the cat family.

Pride tilted his head to the side, at my lack of response. "You don't believe me, huh? Well then, allow me to demonstrate!" He rubbed his heads together vigorously, squeezed his eyes shut, and exerted enough effort that a vein popped in his temple.

"What are you, constipating—"

"I predict that Wrath and my mother would start bickering in three, two, one—"

"I'M DEPRESSED BECAUSE OF YOU, BRADLEY!"

"NO MATTER HOW SAD YOU ARE, REMEMBER THAT SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD, A FAT KID JUST DROPPED HIS ICE CREAM SO SUCK IT UP, WOMAN!"

"WELL, I'M FATTER THAN YOU'D THINK...! THAT DID NOT COME OUT RIGHT."

"NOTHING 'BOUT YOU IS RIGHT. YOU EVEN DO THE **** WRONG WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO (BLEEP)IN' DO THE ** IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!"

"See?" Pride boasted.

"Please, anyone can guess that they're gonna be fighting with one another." I wagged my pencil at the door. "You're OK with hearing intense stuff like this, kid?"

He shrugged. "I've seen too much already. Hearing about it no longer has any effect whatsoever. And, in a minute, you will receive a phone call from your beloved."

Suddenly and mysteriously, my mobile phone rang in the pocket of my pants. The "meow, meow" ringtone that I downloaded for $0.99 ignited. At a very slow and careful pace while giving Pride a wary, distrustful glare, I fished out my phone and answered the call.

"...XxxResisimo Fruncho ClaizxxX?..." I glanced nervously at Pride before lowering my voice, "Baby, what's wrong? I-I can't really talk right now, I'm at work... What?"

"_Meow, meow, meow, meow_."

Her deeply emotional confession brought a tear in my eye.

"How dare AznBoi99 say those stuff to you! When I get home, I'm sending him to the litter box! You know what you're going to do—it's OK, just calm down. I need you to calm down. You're going to look at him straight in the slit pupils, and you're gonna tell him that you're freaking beautiful and nothing's gonna change that. You are your own cat. You are one brave cat. Trust me... Uh huh, OK. I'll see you then. Later."

When I looked up, Pride quickly changed his expression from that of disgust to impassiveness. "So now do you believe me?"

Cautiously, I inclined forward a bit and whispered, "If... if this is all true..."

"It's genuine."

"And you're really psychic..."

"I am to the core."

"Then... tell me... will Resie and AznBoi ever make up? Or will they stay split?"

"I thought this was about me, not your stupid, complicated feline matter—"

"Just tell me!" I shouted. "Will they ever make up?"

The boy frowned. "Uh... I don't... know."

"It's a simple yes or no question!"

"That I don't care about!"

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a 'I don't know.'"

I bit my nails to suppress the upcoming horror. "Oh, it's 'no,' then."

"I just said 'I don't know.'"

I reached across the desk and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him violently. I leaned close to his face and yelled, "IS IT A YES OR NO?"

"Um..." He grimaced in repulse. "I've been meaning to tell you about your breath... it's got to stop."

"You're one damn useless psychic, you know that?" I pushed him away resentfully. "Just shoo. Call in your parents. And shoo."

"But, hello, you haven't—"

"Yeah, yeah... Thank you... for your patience. I assure you, I'll do everything in my power to aid you on your road to recovery—I won't lie to you, it will not be easy... but not impossible, blah blah. Leave for now, go to hallway. Call your parents in."

"But—"

"Please!" I dejectedly buried my head in my arms, slumping forward against the surface of the desk. "I don't have the strength to argue anymore..."

There was a fleeting moment of silence, and then: "It's OK... I'm going to leave... was sort of creeped out from the last two minutes anyway. See you." Shuffling footsteps sounded, along with the door opening and closing.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Bradley<p>

Age: Pretty sure she was alive when Amestris was founded

Weight: You're outta luck if you happen to end up beneath her

Notable features: Dunno what you saw in her, Wrath, I got nothing

Issue: Distraught mother and wife

"I don't understand!" Mrs. Bradley wailed. "I don't understand! I don't understand! I don't understand!"

"I don't 'comprehend,'" I advised her offhandedly. "It's great if you invest in the thesaurus now and then; it will really liven up conversations."

"It's been over five years," she continued on passionately, without much regard to me, "and yet, I feel like we're still not the ideal, intact family I have always dreamed of us to be! Bradley is constantly indulging in alcohol, and he never seems to care for his own son! And, Selim, my dear, adorable Selim, he is picking all the wrong friends! And, oh, I just don't know what to do! All his friends are so strange, and... I believe they're a horrible influence. As for my husband, I have heard stories about him as work; he is idle there as well! Can you believe it?"

"If you believe, you can achieve."

She held her face in her palms and mournfully whimpered. "Is there a way that an ordinary woman like me can repair this family of mine? They do not even listen to me at all, as if I'm invisible!"

I was planning to hand her my tissue box; I had one tucked in my fifth drawer... But if I were to reach down normally, my fingers can only touch the margins of the third drawer... and I wasn't really bothered to extend further than that since unnecessary exercise wasn't my _thang_ per se. So, I simply sat there and watched as tears roll down her face and disseminate at my carpet.

"Should I commit suicide? I wonder if I should just commit suicide! Or, am I merely an existence not needed to them? They don't need me, do they? Selim, he disappeared for quite a while, but came back all fine! I wanted to rescue him, or at least escort him safely back home! The fact that he was independent of me meant that he doesn't need his mother around to keep track of him!"

My carpet. My magnificently designed carpet.

"And, Bradley! He have repeatedly told me that he would much rather spend time at work than with his family. I just... I just don't know!"

It was now tarnished, soiled, sullied with the salty-ass fluids that came channeling out of her eyeballs. I was in peril here; there was a likely chance that I would casually walk along my carpet, slip on that saline puddle she was creating, and suffer from a concussion!

"If I am not essential to my own family, I don't mean _anything_. Anything at all!"

Oh, hell _naw_. One fat tear was materializing at the edge of her left eye. It grew rounder and rounder until it took the shape of a raindrop. This sh*t was going to be huge.

"I feel vulnerable, Dr. Kimblee! I feel it deep within me, but I was too afraid to tell. I cannot tell my family anything, in fear that Bradley would just pass it off as insignificant and Selim would pretend to care before running off with his friends!"

Just like the mama bird always having to let go of her kids, the tear was freed from its home and it began to cheek-board until it slid to her jawline.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

Not now. At least, I had not expected that the inevitable would come this quickly. How could I prepare? No, there was no time.

The tear fell from her face, and in nanoseconds, it plummeted to the ground. Then, it dispersed into the woolly fabric of my beautiful carpet.

I threw back my head, my gaze locking with the ceiling. My mouth parted, and a single, silent gasp escaped. Then, I unleashed a ferocious roar:

"THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I ASSURE YOU, I'LL DO EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO AID YOU ON YOUR ROAD TO RECOVERY—I WON'T LIE TO YOU, IT WILL NOT BE EASY!" I reached over and nearly clawed her hand off. "BUT IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE. HOWEVER, FOR NOW, I'LL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE. PLEASE STEP OUTSIDE THE HALLWAY, AND CALL ANOTHER PERSON IN."

* * *

><p>Wrath<p>

Age: At this point, I've ran outta punchlines for myself

Weight: Beer belly

Notable features: What up with the eyepatch and pedo mustache

Issue: Drunkard

The moment he entered, I made an announcement, "My patience had thinned out to its final straw, after talking with the other crazy folks. We're going to keep this as concise and succinct as possible, you hear? You directly answer my clear, straightforward questions, and then we'll be done."

Wrath shrugged. "Cool with me."

"All right. Why do you drink so much?"

"To drown out annoying-ass noises."

"From whom or what?"

"Wife and kid—or kids, depending on how ya look at it 'cuz with the rest of the Homunculi enlisted and stuff."

"Do you like drinking?"

"I'm gonna pair up the words 'no' and 'shit,' for this one."

"Don't complicate things. When do you usually drink?"

"Mornings, afternoons, evenings, right before I go to bed."

"What do you feel, like what sensation do you get or what emotions bubble within you, when you drink?"

"I feel damn euphoric."

"You're an alcoholic, you know that? How does that make you feel?"

My patient frowned spitefully, crossing his arms. "Oi, I ain't no alcoholic. I only drink two times a year: on my birthday, and when it's not my birthday."

"What do you feel 'bout Mrs. Bradley?"

"Meh."

"Selim Bradley?"

"Ew."

"The Homunculi?"

"Ugh."

"...Me?"

"Blech."

"All right, we're done here."

Issue: Drunkard; I hate his guts

* * *

><p>Dear Miss Diary,<p>

I told them all that the best way to deal with their issues was by, first, helping each other resolve his or her issues. Of course, I was just making up a bunch of bull, but my plan was flawless for, you see, I was going to let them handle one another while I sit back in the sidelines and enjoy my entertainment. The likelihood of this strategy working out was made more certain due to the fact that they were too embarrassed to tell one another their secrets.

I'm going to enjoy ripping them apart and patching back pieces. A summation of my brilliant idea: to pair 'em up, and force 'em to aid each other. Not that the crazy folks can do crap, but it will sure add to my amusement. Here's a draft of my plan:

Envy - Lust

Gluttony - Greed

Mrs. Bradley - Father

Wrath - Pride

Awww, yeah. They did not call me a certified therapist for nothing.

Sincerely,

_Kimblee_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Next episode — Bizarre pairings; they are obliged to manage one another, regardless of their reluctance! This will test their patience to its sheer limits! Will Kimblee's therapy actually forge a bond between the crazy bunch, or is it simply a senseless method that will precipitate them into a deeper madness? Tune in next time, as their underlying problems begin to surface!**

**Edit: Sorry to whoever read this chapter prior to its edit, I messed up the pairings before—I wrote doubles of the same people, resulting to too much pairings. I fixed them now, just to let you know in case you reread the chapter and noticed some changes.**


	6. I Hate Facing My Issues Head-on

**Crazy - Chapter 6: _I Hate Facing My Issues Head-on_**

**Yes, indeed, I have inputted titles for each of my chapters now, to give them a bit of flavor and a sense of uniqueness. I have also separated my chapters into arcs: chapters 1 and 2 comprise the _Living with the Homunculi arc_, chapters 3-4 comprise the _Benefits of a Poorly Planned Kidnapping arc_, and chapters 5-6 thus far comprise the _Hell's Therapy Session arc_. **

**Please grant pardon to the wide gap between the updates. I intend to do better.**

**Warning: As you may have noticed by now, frequent references to pop culture (often times than not, Harry Potter), a flagrant level of absurdity just like always, and in this chapter especially, a dabble of character-to-character emotional conflict.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.**

* * *

><p><strong>WrathFührer Bradley's POV:**

Why was I stuck like this? Here, before me, was that vexing runt that I hate. Selim Bradley—or Pride, or whatever (getting sick of clarifying; double names—or identifies, or whatever—seriously ruin the dramatic effect I was intending to make).

Now, since we are father and son (I literally cringed at admitting this) . . . I suppose, it should be—how do normal people put it? oh, right—_natural _for a father and son to face one another. I mean, I totally understand that sort of logic, if I attempt to view it from an ordinary folk's perspective. Ooh, father and son, sitting together, staring at each other in a very steadfast manner.

It was the farthest thing from _weird_, I guess.

But, what the mother-fudging hell.

What the _hell_. What the hell, what the hell Dell laptop.

If anyone knows me well enough, they would know that I'm not the type of guy who would sit calmly and sleazily with the son I absolutely despise.

But, did I have a _choice_?

No, I did not.

I mean, knowing me—and I _do_ know me, so I know just what I would do—I would get 500,000 kilometers away from this brat and drown myself in beer; I consider it as a perfectly healthy, enlivening exercise. And, I would do such a thing—

If I wasn't put in _shackles_ and jailed in a _cell _with _him_, for crying out loud!

How did I get in this mess? Well, maybe I should start from the beginning. So after the ridiculous therapy session, that I had guaranteed would be of no help to us since the cat-obsessed _Kimblee_ was managing it, Kimblee instructed us specifically to _wait_—"You must _wait_!" he had stressed—in the waiting room. Well, what else are you supposed to do in a _wait_ing room?

Thus, we waited. Patiently. Ish. Greed was as nosy and curious as the rest of us, and he furtively peeked through Kimblee's door. He reported that he saw Kimblee giggling evilly to himself while eagerly scribbling something in his diary. It was not suspicious or remotely creepy at all.

Afterward, Kimblee distributed a glass of water to each of us—or rather, he offered a clear, questionable substance. "You must _drink_!" he had emphasized slowly, as if talking to the mentally incompetent. Well, what else are you supposed to do with a glass of water? What, dump it on Pride's head?

Indeed.

I dumped it, _aaaand_ got scolded by my wife and Kimblee, who had stomped his foot and cried—and I quote: "_Oh-em-gee_, I told you to drink it. Ugh." I wondered how "ohemgee" crawled into his daily use of vocabulary. (Weren't we in, like, the year 1917 or something? Something like that.)

Kimblee fetched another cup of water and made sure I drank it this time, by glaring over my shoulder with unblinking, predatory eyes. After we all finished swallowing the liquid, instantaneously, we felt woozy. The room spun and tilted uncontrollably, and our vision flashed between confusing series of blurs.

"Just _great_," Envy had muttered, drowsily. "We just _fell_ for his trick without . . . without . . . him mother-fudging trying . . ."

He collapsed first. But, he had spoken wise, prudent words before he became a goner. Kimblee wasn't even investing that much effort into this shady scheme, and he succeeded in drugging us all.

We didn't go down without a fight, though. Not like Envy, we swore to never be like Envy. No, we were courageous and honorable. We weakly grappled at his collar, floundered about gracelessly on the floor like a fish, and gave him a _piece_ of our twirling minds.

"Oh, you fudger."

"How dare you, fudger."

"Fudger, fudger."

Apparently, one-fourth of our minds was solely comprised of the word "fudger."

Gluttony was creative, though: "_Mother_ . . . fudger."

He made us swell with pride, as we spiraled into darkness. Kimblee simply cackled in a cruel, malicious fashion in the background, his fingers twitching erratically. He then approached the enfeebled us, with drool or something dribbling down his chin, and our half-lidded eyes captured the frightening sight of him suspending over us.

"Oh, fudge!" was the one thought that raced through our minds, before we underwent a complete shut-down.

By the time I woke up, I was strapped in chains upon a chair and thrown in a prison cell. I guess, the idea of being incarcerated would have been more tolerable, more easier to digest, if I was _alone_. I believed I was put in solitary confinement, and naturally, it came to me, the great wave of relief: "_Hey, this shouldn't be so bad? After all, I can get away from _them."

Oh, the horror. You can imagine the cardiac arrest I experienced when my gaze zeroed in on the hideous face of Selim Bradley, who was restrained and situated upon the other chair directly across from me.

Nice going, Kimblee, you one hell of a jerkwad. I kept a note in my head to utterly obliterate the man with an ax upon seeing him, dismember him to indiscriminate pieces, feed him to my dragon—for the last time, _yes_, I do own a dragon; I call him Steve—kick him around like a soccer ball, and force him to watch a 120-minute long documentary film on Dorés the Ishvalan Explorer, where it studies her extreme aversion to discovering things that are right next to her and her constant urges to ask obvious questions.

". . . Crap," Pride grumbled, when he noticed me.

"I should be the one saying that!" I snapped, an abrupt fury exploding in my chest. _About those anger management classes_ . . .

"What do you think Kimblee want?" Pride asked and vigorously wriggled in his seat in order to loosen the chains, but to no avail.

I shrugged. "I'm _guessin_' a cat. But beyond that, he's just pulling some bull—"

"Yes and no, Wrath," a strongly audible voice—_Kimblee_—blatantly shouted over a microphone, "or . . . should I say 'Führer Bradley,' since your wife's here and we cannot risk letting her know about the, gasp, Homunculi. So, anyway, I hope you all are doing well."

A clamorous ignition of groans, complaints, and curses rumbled throughout the hallway outside our cell, which made it discernible that the rest of us were immured not far off from one another.

"Yeah, yeah," Kimblee said, carelessly, "happy sunshine to you all, too. So, I bet when ya'll woke up, you all were given _quite_ a scare—"

"_Fudge_ you!" Envy's voice traveled from somewhere in the distance.

"I only welcome chocolate fudge. _Anyway_—"

"I want to _leeeeeave_, it is much too humid for my hair!" Father's voice whined.

Kimblee breathed heavily into the microphone, the static buzzing. When he spoke up again, his tone was considerably darker, "OK, look here, you little craps. Let me finish my exposition, then you can all go on sassing. I present to you: Kimblee's Friendship Box!"

"Uh, nah," I said plainly, trying to scratch my ear by shoving my left shoulder upward and hoping it would come into contact with the itchy skin.

"_Uh_, you don't have a choice," Kimblee returned, sarcastically. "So, let me get on with my presentation! This is the Kimblee's Friendship Box!"

"I swear you have just said that. This is why we _never_ get anywhere," Greed's voice stated, and we simultaneously mumbled our agreement.

"Wrong! You got here, in my Box!" Kimblee retorted, much too cheerily for our liking, and we groaned in semblance to the pain bellowed when one had accidentally stepped on a Lego. "Trust me, I love ya'll. You're all like my little . . . _kitties_."

We were scared.

"But, you're all insane. So, I'm going to help you. Look real hard at the one person in the same Box as you. That's your partner for my game."

"Noooooooooo!"

My "no" was the loudest lament, but there were many others who shared my misery and grief. It made me inquisitive as to who each of them got. Pride, by far, was the most fortunate; he had the best partner there was.

"We don't want to participate in your stupid game!" Envy screamed, demonstrating his recalcitrant self. "If it's Musical Chairs to see who can sit down fastest, then, uh, hello, being _strapped down_ to the chair really defeats the purpose of it!" His voice was a bit sing-song, as if he was gradually transitioning into lunatic frustration.

"Ewww! I don't want to be a part of this, either!" _Lust_'s voice filled the empty air. "What the hell? Why am _I_ also here? I thought I no longer had to take your therapy lessons!"

"Yeah, sure, but I need you for this game or there won't be an even number of players. I'm very OCD about that," Kimblee breezily answered, and I can picture him casually trimming his toenails, while Lust spluttered unintelligibly in astonishment.

"Ew, you're spitting!" Envy cried. Well, that solved the mystery of who Envy was paired up with.

"I hope you can _feel_ our incredible hatred for you, _burning_ and _seeping_ and _steaming_ and _bubbling_ through the walls!" Greed yelled angrily.

"Sadly, I cannot," Kimblee claimed, "I have the air conditioner on so. . . . On to what I was saying, you're put into the Box with your partner for a reason. The objective of the game is to get _out_ of the Box."

"_Nooo_," Envy articulated, his voice wired with spite and satire. "We were planning to, over time, nourish our facial hairs and reproduce in this extremely cool rectangle building."

"Ew!" Lust's reply to his "reproduce" comment was especially ingenious, and not in the least prosaic.

"'Box' is a really euphoric way to put it," Pride remarked dully, snuggling in his seat as if to get comfortable albeit the chains, "when, truly, it is nothing more than a prison cell. I'm starting to harbor doubts about the authenticity of your certification as a therapist—"

"Selim! Is that you!?" my wife's voice unexpectedly burst from nowhere, terrifying the dickens out of me. "Oh my goodness, Selim! I am so relieved! I couldn't find you, and I'm stuck with this strange, strange man with long blond hair!"

"Le gasp, don't insult Father . . ." a detached Envy muttered, largely missing out on enthusiasm; it was patently evident that the Homunculi had lost much reverence and respect for the demented man that was allegedly our leader.

"Yeah, don't . . ." Pride's resolve was even more pathetic.

"Oi!" I barked. "Woman! You sure as hell didn't sound much relieved when you heard _my_ voice! The hell, I'm your damned husband, for shrieking out loud! I deserve _priority_ in that heart of yours!"

Pride piped up, "You have my sentiments, Mother. I'm stuck with Dad, and it's not very pleasant."

"Whatever!" Lust chided, ruefully. "I'm stuck with Envy! _Envy_!"

"I'm stuck with Lust! _Lust_!"

"Shut up!" Greed ferociously roared, submerging everyone else's voices into oblivion. "You all don't get the right to complain! Be appreciative with who you got, goddammit!" We were about to mock him for being so maudlin and preposterously emotional, but then he half-sobbed, "I, on the other hand, am assigned to _Gluttony_! Y—you fools!"

We felt remorseful that we didn't understand him earlier. Now, it was too late to strive to comprehend his pain and suffering. No one added anything to his speech, as he was unreservedly right. He had the worst luck out of all of us.

"Man . . ." Envy remarked quietly, with impressive sorrow and dolefulness, "sucks to be you."

"It does!" A mistreated Greed was reduced to incoherent blubbering.

Static hummed again, grating on our nerves with its cacophonous screeches. "OK, OK!" Kimblee's energetic voice said. "Glad we've caught up with each other here. Now, I'm hoping you guys are done. You guys saved me a lot of time to announce one another's partners, since you all cried about it on your own. Very good. Back to what I was saying beforehand . . . the initiative to this game is to get out of the box. Now, you're probably wondering, 'How can I, since I'm chained down like this?'"

"Nah," Envy argued, "I think our thoughts are more closely related to, 'How can I kill him gratifyingly, without leaving any evidence?'"

Kimblee decided to skip over Envy's interruption altogether, "It's simple, really. Let me tell you, you cannot use force to escape from the Box. Try it. Try using your Homunculus power or something."

"Um, what?" my puzzled wife questioned.

"Not you."

Obviously since Kimblee stated it like that, there was really no point in trying. So, I was just sitting there, bored, observing as Pride attempted to summon his shadows. And, nothing happened as anticipated, and Pride's eyes widened as he endeavored over and over again, futilely, to manifest those creepy-crawlers. Same as him, grunts stirred up in the atmosphere, as the rest of them sought strenuously to rouse their power, but there was no spark.

Gluttony was the first to panic, "What d-did you do?"

"I mixed in a special ingredient into your drinks," Kimblee informed, almost proudly, and I swear I would hook my fingers up his nose and twist. "I call it Med-A. It's quite efficient. It temporarily suppresses your ability to draw out power from your philosopher stone. This is perfect for us. For this Box, you can only escape with your partner's assistance. As each one of you has an issue that requires attention, I'll just make your partner help you get rid of it. To do that, you must be kind, gentle, and encouraging to one another. Help each other open up and get to know each other. Learn to love each other, and destroy your innate hatred of each other. Once I find that each of you has recovered significantly in the head, I will release you from the Box, and you are free to go."

A deep, troubling silence transpired. Then, Greed murmured, "We're . . . we're filming a soap opera, aren't we?"

"Come on, come on!" Kimblee raved, his exasperating voice penetrating the speakers. "Review, review? What do you guys think of my therapy stage? Pretty elaborate, ain't it? So, anyway, I'm going to press a button and remove your chains, so you can explore around the Box. See? I'm not merciless, I'm a good, cat-loving man with a big heart. But, let me get onto the rules of the game. First, no killing each other. That's a no-no. Second, don't purposely provoke me. Third, have fun. Also, Med-A fades in forty-eight hours."

"Yeah," I said, "if you can stop calling two days 'forty-eight hours,' that'd be great."

"All right, we'll just wait it out for two days, then I'll transform to, one: break out of here, and two: break your ass," Envy threatened.

"Problem is," Kimblee declared, "that's not part of the game. The game lasts for only twenty-four hours—"

I corrected him, "One day."

"—and after that period of time, and you still fail to meet my expectations, you will receive the Box's Ultimate Punishment. Yes, I will kill you."

My wife gasped in dread.

Kimblee laughed into the microphone, "Just kidding! I'm not licensed for that! However, I will make the Ultimate Punishment gruesome, you will see. Also, to make things funner, under your seats, will be what I call the Temptation. On your seats will be a note which lists your personal Requirement along with instructions to complete this game. Feel free to share the Temptation you own! Any rule-breakers will go through the Detention Center for three hours—any attempt to _murder_ each other will bring you to the Detention Center! How will I know? Well, that's simple. All around you, I have placed hidden cameras, so I'll be spying on you for this entire twenty-four hours. It's going to be fun!

"Once I unchain you, you are free to explore, like I've said before. Not that there's much space. I think . . . I think I've"—there was an indistinct ruffling noise, and I inferred he was flipping through his papers—"I've told you everything that I should about the game. I'll tell you the time intermittently, so you know when to get your ass moving. Well, without further ado, the Kimblee's Friendship Box Game will commence! Oh, and, you cannot call for help, and I most likely won't be responding to your pleas because I will be listening to hot metal music. And . . . I think you can at least go through twenty-four hours without food or water, right? Figure out the toilet arrangements on your own."

The microphone shut off with an overt click.

Then, it turned on again.

"Oh, and there's no toilet. Good luck. 'Kay, bye."

Unanimously, everyone howled in disapproval and raised a huge din, stomping our feet out of indignation. When the chains brusquely fell from our shoulders, we jumped up from our seats and stretched liberally.

"Let's murder him!" Lust proposed, and we all gave our consent by shouting and screaming.

The mic turned on.

"Don't try. 'Kay, bye."

I, then, noticed a Post-it note on my seat, which I had been smothering with my firm, well-defined bottom up until this point. I plucked it from the seat and brought it close to my eyes. The bleary doodles began to concentrate into recognizable words—whoo, my eyesight ain't so hot, after all.

_Hi, [insert name here]! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

I made a face of disgust, while Pride began to read his note too. Copycat.

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner thinks he's psychic, when he's really just loco! _D: _So, all you have to do is convince him that he's not psychic!_

"Uh . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>PrideSelim Bradley's POV:**

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner thinks his life sucks, so he drinks a lot! _D: _When, really, his life does suck but he shouldn't drink! So, all you have to do is convince him to quit drinking!_

"Hm . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>Envy's POV:<strong>

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner thinks she's ugly! _D: _Even if she is ugly, she shouldn't think that way! So, all you have to do is convince her that she's not ugly! Again, even if she is ugly!_

* * *

><p><strong>Lust's POV:<strong>

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner has short-term memory (and a startling lack of hair)! _D: _Usually, that'd be a good thing, since you'd have a lot of pranks to choose from! But, no, we shouldn't do that! So, all you have to do is make him have long-term memory!_

* * *

><p><strong>Greed's POV:<strong>

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner is insecure! He thinks he doesn't fit in with you lot! _D: _I don't know why he thinks that since you're all basically loco, but he thinks that! So, all you have to do is make him un-insecure!_

* * *

><p><strong>Gluttony's POV:<strong>

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner has a thing for sweets! An addictive thing! _D: _I hope his teeth rots, but that'll be unpleasant for the rest of us, so let's keep his teeth from rotting! So, all you have to do is get rid of that addiction!_

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner thinks she is a bad mother and wife! _D: _She obviously is a bad mother and wife, but let's lie like hell! So, all you have to do is convince her that she is a good mother and wife!_

* * *

><p><strong>Mrs. Bradley's POV:<strong>

_Hi, _[insert name here]_! I'm so happy you're reading me! ^_^_

_Here's your super-duper secret Requirement!_

_Your partner is very sensitive about his image, and he's bipolar! D: Let's get him to be one-polar! So, all you have to do is get him to be one-polar!_

* * *

><p><strong>WrathFührer Bradley's POV:**

"Oi!" I hurled the stupid note at the ground, but the sticky part of the paper adhered to my thumb, and I dedicated myself to shaking off the accursed thing. "Isn't this Requirement chiz, like, extremely vague? How in the world are we supposed to accomplish this task?"

"Yes!" my wife agreed with me (finally). "Mine is _exceptionally_ vague!"

The mic turned on, and we heard robust music drumming in the background.

"Oh, yes, check the back of the note!"

The mic turned off, and we read the back of our respective notes.

_You're still reading me, yay! This is what you should do:_

_1. Open the Temptation underneath your seat._

_2. Show it to your partner._

_3. Prepare for outburst._

_4. Wait for the twelve-hour mark (I will announce it) after opening the Temptation, then attempt to destroy it in front of your partner._

_5. Prepare for outburst. Defend yourself accordingly. There are no first aid kits available._

_Your goal is to destroy the Temptation and get your partner to accept its extinction. If your partner manages to get his or her dirty hands on the Temptation before you can destroy it, the Detention Center shall be dealt for the remaining hours of the twenty-four hours interval. Once the time is up, you will proceed to the Ultimate Punishment. I will _forcibly_ annihilate your issue, and you will not like it at all. P.S. You will also be known as a loser for the rest of your life._

"Well," Envy said, "this got dark pretty quickly."

I looked under my seat, and sure enough, there was an intricately floral-designed mahogany box. I took it, watching Pride warily from the corner of my eye as he picked up his box, and I carefully lifted its lid.

Inside was, a crystal ball.

"Uh, what?"

"_Wow_," Pride muttered, peering into his box, with a real annoying, arrogant layer doused to his tone. "I'm not surprised."

"Oi, let's show it to each other on the count of three! Three!"

"Hai."

"Don't go Japanese on my ass. One!"

We both revealed our boxes to one another, shielding our eyes a bit in fear of the unknown. Then, slowly, I peeped out from my fluttering eyelids and perceived—oh, Lord—the deluxe, awfully rare, 1867's exquisite version of the _Pinot Noir _wine; it is promised to have a sensual, smooth feel that melts in one's mouth with a crisp, enriching finish, leaving one's desire for more _insatiable_. Drinking _that_ red beauty would knock me out for the night.

I've . . . I've got to get my hands on it.

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

Perhaps this was fate. Yes, this was my destiny. Right there, in front of me, a resplendent, irrefutably glorious crystal ball. The flawless, transparent quartz sphere exhilarated me. It was so marvelously polished that I could see my own reflection on it—how mystical, how exciting! This spiritual item, it complemented greatly with my aptitude for divination. With this, I could grant others my instinctive foresight to the fullest of my ability.

This was meant to be for _me_. And, only me. No one else. My excellent intuition told me that much. I must unite with this statuesque thing so that I may bring into ripeness my clairvoyance.

But then, that _man_. That man I must refer to as my father. He did not possess the merit to hold _my_ crystal ball in such an indiscreet manner; he should not even be allowed to stand within spitting distance of it. He was the farthest thing from sagacity. He had no capacity for extrasensory perception, unlike me. And yet, how come _he_ had it?

This was wrong.

So wrong.

I must rescue my crystal ball from his slovenly grasp.

_Wait for me, Lola._

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

Who was this unsightly, fragile woman before me? How dare she gaze at me so impertinently? I would smack the wrinkles out of her, for showing me such barefaced effrontery. How dare she weep before me, when I displayed to her the Temptation I received—it was merely a picture of Wrath and Pride standing side by side and smiling happily (actually, Wrath's smile was unmistakably strained).

Wasn't it sort of creepy that Kimblee somehow got this personal photo? Well, whatever.

But, what seized my attention, while I was goading her by dangling the photo from the compression of my index finger and thumb, was when she disclosed her own Temptation—

It was an officially signed and stamped letter of confirmation that the Elric brothers will be my friend.

"Ohhh, my!" I wallowed in immense joy and elation, clasping my hands together, and kicking my leg up. "I-is this for reals?"

* * *

><p><strong>Envy's POV:<strong>

_(2 minutes and 56 seconds into the game . . .)_

"Screw it!" I cried to the irritating Lust, throwing up my hands as if surrendering. "I don't give a crap anymore. Who cares about the damned rules?" I thrust my note into her face. "OK, it says here, my Requirement is to convince you're not ugly, which is not going to happen. And, here . . ." I flung my Temptation box at her. "Inside's a mirror and make-up. Knock yourself out."

"Ooh!" Lust's heinous eyes lit up with glee, and she initiated the process of applying lipstick while gazing into the mirror. "Oh, and my Requirement is to help you with your memory chiz, which I am not interested in at all. Inside my box are some hair products for you nonexistent hair. You can have it."

I snickered contentedly, and began to nurture the scalp of my hair with the expensive substance self-indulgently. Take _that_, Kimblee!

All of a sudden, red alarms gleamed all over the hallway and blared vociferously, piercing our eardrums with their strident, repetitive sounds.

"Attention, all! Envy and Lust have broken almost _all_ of the rules!"

"Already!?" the rest of them shouted in disbelief.

"Yes, already! They suck. So, now, they will be given to the Detention Center! Dun, dun, _dun_!"

I scoffed in derision. "Oh, _puh-leaz_, Kimblee. What can you really do—"

A _hole_ appeared right beneath my feet. Lust had one, too.

Oh, fudge.

All that I could do was scream, before I fell down, and was consumed by the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

(_15 minutes and 24 seconds into the game . . .)_

"So, like," I pushed my beautiful hair back, "I don't understand how, how come no one likes me, you know? I mean, I am a very good person. Like, very, berry good. I've—I've done a lot. I've helped out in, like, the community and stuff, you know? I don't just stand there, I become a part of things. I become united with others, and I really participate. I always put, like, my best foot forward." I paused to take a breather and narrowed my eyes. "But, I still don't understand, you know? How the hell is it possible that I give so much, but have so little friends? I mean, I would totes understand if this was coming from, like, let's say . . . _you_, you know? You're a housewife and don't really do much, which I totes understand, but you get what I mean, right? If it was coming from you, it would be totally understandable if, like, you don't get that much friends. But, _me_? I'm a completely different story. I don't just stop giving, you know?"

"I'm—I'm useless, aren't I?" Mrs. Bradley sobbed.

"Oh my Promised Day, _yeah_, you totally understand too, huh?" I continued. "So, anyway_sss_, I've been through so much, and yet, people still look down on me. A-and, I seriously wonder what the hell it is that I'm doing _wrong_! What in the world am I doing wrong? I mean, sure, it brings me joy to see people in pain. Why not? And, sure, I collect philosopher stones for evil purposes, but come on, it's just a hobby. Like, seriously, get over it, people!"

(_37 minutes and 9 seconds into the game . . .)_

"You cannot believe the mean things these people say! Like, jeez, give me a break. People like me have feelings, you know! But, seriously, I'm, like, really stressed right now. Like, _so_ stressed, but you understand me, right? It's so hard to keep up with everything. I mean, on one side, I have my Homunculi children to take care of. Ugh. And, on the other side, Truth is being a real jerkwad to me, and I don't know what I did to deserve it. Ugh, I can't manage everything on my own, you know!"

(_5 hours, 42 minutes, and 17 seconds into the game . . .)_

"I've decided . . . I'm going to mother-fudging kill everybody in this world."

* * *

><p><strong>Greed's POV<strong>

(_8 hours, 23 minutes, and 2 seconds into the game . . .)_

OK, this was it. I had abstained from Gluttony's Temptation for me for way too long. I've done the best I could. I've given it all I've got to forbear, to withstand. But, that alluring, delectable scent, it was unavoidable. How dare Kimblee use my weakness against me.

How dare the Twinkie Company shut down, then recently return to the shelves, but no longer taste as magnificent and comparable. It did not glow with nostalgia anymore, when I had dove into the treat. How _dare_ it. Dammit, fudge this cell, fudge the ceiling, fudge this horrendous game, fudge my life—

"Just gimme the damned Twinkie!" I screamed, frantically, lunging from my curled-up position against the wall. Gluttony yelped in terror, as I chased him around the cramped cell. "Gimme!" I grappled at the air with avarice, clenching the fatso by the shoulder.

Gluttony seemed petrified. "B-but, aren't you supposed to help _me_?"

"Goddammit, Gluttony! You'll never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever—wait for it—_ever_ fit in with us, and _I_ have a fudging Chinese dude sharing my subconsciousness!" I hollered, digging my fists into my hair in aggravation.

Gluttony cried.

"Don't cry on my Twinkie, goddammit!"

I cried, too.

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

"Oi, Wrath," I said, sneakily, stroking the wine, "you're interested in getting your fortune told, right? I can give you a clue into your future. Anything you want. Seriously, I am capable of that."

Wrath's gaze never betrayed the wine; he was sitting on the opposite wall to me. "Does my future include that red beauty?"

"I don't know, Wrath. But, I can give you a definite answer . . . once you hand over that crystal ball."

"Hell no!" Wrath said sternly, clutching the crystal ball to his chest protectively. "I don't want to be given to the damned Detention Center, then the damned Ultimate Punishment right after."

I scowled. "Well, I'm not handing over this wine."

"Well, I guess that settles that, then."

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

Who knows how long it was? It felt like an eternity, with each aggravating minute slugging on by, elapsing at an elongated, inert pace. I was banging my forehead against the cold brick wall, and across from me, Pride was fiddling with his fingers while glaring at the crystal ball. Although I was desperate as well, I was sly and stealthy when I trained my eyes on the tantalizing wine Pride had laid out in unobstructed view.

I was ready to envisage shooting myself through the temple, but then the microphone turned on:

"I—"

"No one gives two fudges, Kimberly!" I hollered, restlessly.

"Sheesh! Tough crowd!"

"I bet your bones will be tough to chew," Greed said, very sinister-like, very famished-like, and we all suspected that he had already consumed Gluttony whole. "But, I'm willing to try."

"Eep."

The Pokemon squeak belonged to Gluttony.

"I just wanted to announce," Kimblee proclaimed, "that you've hit the twelfth-hour mark. Congrats! You may now destroy—"

"Aaaaaaaaaaah!" I got up and screamed like a chimera on fire, and slammed the worthless crystal ball against the wall. "Die, bugger!"

Pride violently burst, "LOLA!"

"Huh?"

As he raced to me, his foot incidentally knocked over my wine, and it went rolling toward the barred gate.

"CHRISTINA!" I shouted for my wine, and recklessly swung my fist at the tiny brat scurrying toward my direction.

The slippery, shockingly agile bastard managed to duck in time before my fist could collide with his face—how regrettable—but his mouth flew apart to form a precise circle. "D-did you just try to _hit your own son_?"

"I do this nearly everyday! Just this time, it's not out of impulse; I actually have a reason to— God_damn_!"

That spidery creep tugged on the hem of my shirt to boost him up, as he _climbed_ on my back, clawing on the fabric of my suit to support him. He arduously clambered to my shoulders, and then wrestled for the crystal ball in my left palm.

I struggled to push him off, by shaking my upper torso like I was dancing to the samba, but he was persistent, adhering to me by wringing his arm around my head and grabbing my nose with his nasty-ass hand. "Shit! Get off me, you brat! What the _hell_!?"

"Give me Lola _now_! You're abusing it! You're abusing my _precious_!"

In response, I hurled the crystal ball to the other side of the wall and heard it struck, but it revolved along the ground, unscratched. Pride breathed a sigh of relief, and the moment he let his defenses crumble, I reached behind me and snatched the scruff of his neck. Drilling my fingers into his skin securely, I then pulled him from me, like removing a feather from a chicken, dragged him over my head, and after mustering enough momentum, I threw him to the wall as well.

He scrambled from the wall and extended his fingers to the crystal ball still moving along all leisurely. I planted my foot on the crystal ball to end its meaningless advance, and grinned malevolently at Pride.

"N-no, not Lola, spare Lola— Noooooooooo!"

I trampled the ball beneath me, mercilessly, cackling while I was at it. I continued the downward thrusts of my foot, then picked it up and knocked it against the wall repeatedly, so that I can crush it. The invincible crystal ball remained intact.

"Damn, what is this _fudger_ made out of!?"

But, just as I was intently scrutinizing this perplexing little bugger, Pride hastily slid to the other side of the cell, clasping Christina.

"Look here, Wrath," Pride taunted, his eyes blazing with ire.

My heartbeat skidded to a halt. "D-don't touch Christina—"

"Chrisy. Must. Die!"

"IT'S _CHRISTINA_! SHE HAS A CLASSY NAME!"

"Class this!" He raised the wine indicatively.

"That threat makes no sense, but ok."

It came to my understanding what he was about to do a bit too late—he was about to beat the wine against his chair.

"Noooooooooo!"

I rashly cast myself forward to save my Christina from that abhorrent demon, wholeheartedly prepared to sacrifice my body and cripple a leg or two—and, no, I was not ready to commit such a noble deed because I knew I had good ol' faithful regeneration to back me up—but, oh crap, didn't Kimberly arrest my Homunculus power or something?—did that mean I _cannot_ regenerate and I will actually hurt myself?—shit, I take it back! if only I wasn't already slicing through the air—

When I ran to him, however, he suddenly shifted gears; he leaped on his chair, that short bugger, and then brought Christina _down upon my head_ as if wielding a hammer.

No.

Just no.

NO.

NO!

My hair!

But, more importantly, Christina!

Christina, my lovely. Christina, though I've only known you for a brief period, I believed you have shown me a complete new world and all of the different sides of me (I didn't know I could extend my body this far before). Christina, you were the one for me. You had put your trust in me to save you, even though you were aware that that was a bad idea from the start.

The glass screening of Christina the wine bottle _shattered_ to multitudinous fragments, dispersing by my feet in an overwhelming flow. Next came the invaluable contents. The red, red stream poured down my hair, neck, and clothes, drenching me with the fermented grape juice.

I suppose, in a poetic sense, Christina never truly left me. I guess that was sweet-ish, if I choose to ignore the stickiness and the fact that it was overall disgusting.

But, nah, I wasn't going to ignore it.

"YOU LIL' BUGGER!" I reeled his head in by the crook of my arm, smothering the brat. "I'MMA KILL YOU, I'MMA KILL YOU! YOU TRIEDTA KILL ME, SO I'MMA KILL YOU!"

"NOT IF I KILL YOU FIRST!"

We both fought, jostling each other. With my other hand, I drove the crystal ball incessantly against his chair, buffeting that bugger without relenting in the slightest to fatigue. Can someone make a suit out of this!? It was the most unbeatable thing ever created.

Pride yelled, "STOP TRYING TO HURT LOLA! I WILL SERIOUSLY KILL YOU—"

The microphone turned on.

"Whoa, whoa! Let's stop right there, the both of you!" Kimblee scolded. "You both attempted murder. Tsk tsk! You know what this earns you? The Detention Center!"

"What—"

The brusque loss of ground impelled me to yelp; the crystal ball was propelled from my hand and onto Pride's seat. On there, it broke—FINALLY. But, before, I could celebrate my victory, I was forcibly yanked down, eaten by the ensuing darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

I couldn't help it. Remember how I whimsically decided, on the spur of the moment, to kill everybody? Yeah, I was feeling quite rueful. I desired for everyone to suffer just like I was. So, when the twelfth hour came up, I swiftly ripped the photo.

Afterward, I must admit, I felt unconquerable. Like, this was one of the most brutal, ruthless things I have ever done, and thus, I've accomplished something weighty and memorable today.

But then, the eccentric woman obviously wanted to take a spin on the ride of unpredictability, too. She whipped out _double guns_ from her shirt and pointed them at me. Two things. First, why didn't Kimblee confiscate these dangerous weapons beforehand? Second, and arguably the most significant question of them all:

AM I GOING TO DIE?

I screamed, and while panicking, I tore the photo even more.

OK, _that_ probably wasn't the smartest move.

The uncontrollable woman exploded with fury, shrieking and crying, causing me to do the same. Tears pooled from my eyes in torrents, as she randomly shot. Opportunely, her aim was erroneous since she was too busy wailing at the top of her lungs, so the bullets bounced away from me. However, they ricocheted against the walls and accelerated toward _me_.

I yelped and pounded the entire mass of my body backward, to flip out of my chair and land on the ground. My gorgeous blond hair splattered against the solid surface of the floor. Pain coiled around my spine, and I groaned, seeing as the bullets journeyed past me with awe-inspiring speed.

_I'm getting too old for this crap._

My mind went sailing. I only had one option available.

It was to holler my head off senselessly.

"AAAAAAHHHH! DON'T KILL ME, DON'T KILL ME! AAAAHHHHH!"

"HOW DARE YOU MISTREAT MY FAMILY LIKE THAT!"

"IT WAS A _PHO-FREAKING-TO_!"

"Decay, you bastard!" She pulled the trigger a few more times, and I was compelled to flop about to evade the bullets.

"NOW I WOULD TOTES UNDERSTAND IF, LIKE, YOU CAN NEVER, EVER TAKE A PIC WITH THEM AGAIN! BUT, THAT IS _SOOOO_ NOT THE CASE! STOP OVERREACTING—"

Without hesitation, she tossed my crumpled letter of confirmation up, and shot a bullet through it, leaving a gaping hole.

"YOU BITCH! HOW DARE YOU UNNECESSARILY SHOOT MY PRECIOUS PIECE OF PAPER—"

The woman who had lost her marbles directed the tip of her guns at my forehead. "I'm going to kiiiill—"

The microphone turned on.

"Nuh, uh, uh, Mrs. Bradley!" Kimblee said. "Sorry I'm late, Father, I noticed the threat a while ago, but _at the same time_, I was feeding a couple of my cats . . . and, well"—he laughed amicably, as if everything was all fine—"we all know which is more important. Well, anyway, Mrs. Bradley! You have broken a rule of mine! That is, you cannot attempt to murder your partner! You shall now be transported to the Detention Center!"

Before Mrs. Bradley could protest, a hole appeared beneath her feet, and she soon vanished.

Oh, thank the Lords!

"Sorry that I had to get rid of your partner."

"There's seriously nothing to be sorry for."

"You'll probably be bored for the next three hours alone."

"No, really, can't you extend the period?"

"So, I'm going to give you a prize to play with, out of gratitude that you haven't tried to kill your partner as of yet!"

"I didn't have the chance."

A small aperture substantiated above me in the ceiling, and dropped out of heaven was . . .

Chalk.

It hit my head. I watched as it turned over, touching my leg.

"Um . . . what am I—"

"You're welcome! Ta-doodle-doo!"

* * *

><p><strong>Greed's POV:<strong>

(_14__ hours, 34 minutes, and 15 seconds into the game . . .)_

When I had heard the people around me scream as they were delivered to the Detention Center, I quickly abandoned my tireless pursuit of the corpulent Gluttony. As an alternative, I sulked in the corner of the cell, gathering my knees to my chest and hugging them mournfully. I had never felt so defeated, so _deprived_ for sweets. I could just visualize the tasty sugar dissolving in my tongue and trickling down my throat.

Oh man, I needed it to supplement myself so that I no longer had to be so destitute. I yearned for those irresistible sweets in my palms in order to gobble them sinfully, to digest _greedily_—

Ah, ironic, ironic.

"Um."

"SHUT UP, GLUTTONY!" I roared.

Whoa, did _not_ see that coming out of me. I hoped I still looked appealing even after over-stretching my mouth in an imitation of a lion's yawn.

Alarmed, Gluttony timidly twiddled with his fingers, and I almost felt _bad_. All right, respiring in this cramped-up cell for half a day was giving me delusive and fallacious emotions. I pined to be released so that I could visit a nearby market and load myself with sweets.

_Fatass_, Ling chided.

"You're one to talk," I growled lowly.

"Um," Gluttony tentatively spoke up again, putting together his index fingers, "you haven't opened your Temptation yet."

"Oh . . . that's right." The Twinkie—in Gluttony's pocket, oh dear, how I craved for it—had ensnared my undivided attention.

Languidly, in prone position, I hauled myself along the ground, collecting dust, and clasped the box underneath my seat. I did not hold much interest for what was inside the container, as it was probably only something Gluttony wanted. And, who cares about what he wants?

But, when I opened the box, the sight of it really shut up my _mind_.

A Twinkie.

_You've got to be shitting me_—

Oh, right. We were both fatasses when it came to sweets, so naturally . . . we'd have the same exact Temptations. It was also a lazy presumption on Kimblee's part.

But then, my mind illuminated with an _idea_. An extremely brilliant idea.

A broad grin formed on my lips. "Oi, Gluttony! I know how we could achieve a win-win situation! We can _beat_ this game!"

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

It was ghastly. It was horrible. It was distressing. I was not enlightened of my time spent in here, but this was an ineluctable _hell_. Along with me were Pride, my wife—I hereby proclaim this as the worst family reunion in history—Envy, and Lust. We were all tied to chairs and placed in front of a large television screen. Envy and Lust were particularly exhausted, with grisly bags lingering beneath their shriveled eyeballs, as they were swept in here for an incalculably long time.

Playing on the screen was an _extended_ documentary film, appended with a fudging _movie_, of Dorés the Ishvalan Explorer.

"NOOOO—"

Envy curtly rotated his head a full three-hundred sixty degrees—or at least it was so creepy it seemed that way—and glared daggers at me, his brow jerking convulsively. It was incredibly disturbing.

"Shut up!" he snarled. "Or _she'd_ hear you!"

"Which path should we take?" Dorés asked us with an unsettling smile. "The grassy one or the rocky one that obviously has Swiper the Chimera lurking about, but I will deliberately choose to be oblivious to it, using my age as the excuse for my otherwise inexcusable ignorance, because I like to mislead children into thinking their opinions matter but, truthfully, I am already pre-programmed to pick the rocky one, because I also want to inspire 'suspense' or the like by having Swiper steal my pretty much useless tool that I'm only going to use for one adventure and, later on, it will completely disappear from the show for the rest of the season. Most of the friends I help out here on my adventures, I will most likely forget them once I turn five years old. That is, if I'm ever going to turn five."

We stared at her speechlessly.

"That . . ." Pride blinked, "must have been a mouthful."

* * *

><p><strong>Father's POV:<strong>

_(15 hours, 12 minutes, and 3 seconds into the game . . .)_

I was conversing merrily with the chalky stick figure I had drawn on the wall, "So, like, Sherry, I was thinking about killing everybody else in the world. But then, I thought, 'Hey, that's nothing new.' So, I need something _else_ to do, you know? So, I won't be doing mundane, commonplace things like this. _Sooo_ unimaginative—"

Aaaand, the mentally deranged woman plopped from the ceiling and back in the cell. The moment that she landed, she burst into nerve-wracking sobs. "But, Dorés, I don't _know_ what my favorite part of the day is! Stop asking me, _please_!"

Nonchalantly, I flicked my flaxen threads behind my shoulders. I was calm now, after Kimblee reassured me that he expropriated her double guns. "I feel like I shouldn't ask. And, please, it's rude to interrupt me and Sherry while we're divulging in our feelings, OK? Jeez, Sherry, some people just don't have _any_ manners."

The woman bore me no heed—she had such shameful audacity—and folded her body in a disheartened fashion.

_I don't care, I don't care, I don't care._

Well, that was what I told myself.

Until she started to silently weep instead of bawling like earlier. Therefore, it was tremendously less creepy and more intriguing.

"You know," I began, "raising a family's never easy."

At this, she perked her head up a little.

"Yeah," I asserted, examining my fingernails. "I mean, I have an entire family of _seven_ kids. And they're all so full of _sin_." I chuckled at my own joke. "But, seriously, I feel you, girl. I get a lot of stress watching over them and stuff. They're such a rebellious bunch, most of them never do as I want. But, a family's a family. And, you can't be half-bad if you're the wife and mother. That's a lot of responsibility, so you're worthy of _some_ praise, at least."

She sat up, and wiped her tears. "Y-you think so?"

I held up my hand. "Don't be mistaken. I still hate your guts, and I'll never forget how you insanely pointed your double guns at me, and I swear I will get even, and when the Promised Day comes into realization, you'll be the first soul I will swallow the fudge out of."

"I don't understand all of what you just said, but still, I'm a little comforted . . ." she whispered.

I was repulsed. "Ugh, believe me, that wasn't my intention to console you or anything. Please, munger, all you have to worry about is raising a family. _I'm_ the one that needs consolation."

"If it means anything," she said, smiling, "you seem lonely yourself. If you're in need of a friend to talk to . . . I can be your friend."

My eyes widened in surprise at her sentimental words, and I felt an overpowering emotion grip me.

"EW! NO THANKS! I HAVE SHERRY!"

* * *

><p><strong>Gluttony's POV:<strong>

Big Brother was indubitably clever. I know I never would have had the brain capacity to contrive of such a splendid strategy. We were aware that we were both starving, ravenous creatures, and his appetite was almost on par with mine when it involved sweets. So, we—or, to be accurate, he—found a loophole to the game. Greed had me eat the Twinkie from my own Temptation box, and he ate the Twinkie from his Temptation box; thus, we both got to enjoy the Twinkies and destroy one another's Temptations, just like Mr. Kimblee had requested.

When the twenty-four hours were up, we were prepared to face Mr. Kimblee.

* * *

><p><strong>Pride's POV:<strong>

_(23 hours, 51 minutes, and 17 seconds into the game . . .)_

We were, once again, on opposite sides of the cell.

"Clock's ticking," I warned.

"I know that," Wrath grumbled.

"Even though we've managed to destroy each other's Temptations, we haven't even touched upon each other's inherent issues. We can't get out of the Box in time. We're going to lose."

"I know that."

"We have no hope."

"I know that."

"What are we going to do?"

"OK, _that_, I don't know."

Idly, I kneaded my feet into the cracks marring the ground. "Admittedly . . . I've imagined things to happen differently."

"Me too. I imagined getting to shove my foot up Kimberly's ass for making me take a piss in the corner. I also fantasized being with my Christina, but you just _had_ to—"

"You were going to _drink_ her," I pointed out.

"May my stomach be forever her home. Until she comes out at the bottom of the ride, of course." He laughed to himself. "Whoo-ey, I am funny."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm being serious, Wrath. I had imagined that we, at least, would have been able to accomplish this."

"This had better not be some kinda psychic—"

"No," I denied grimly. "It's merely an assumption. I had thought that since it _is_ us, Wrath and Pride, this Box would be a simple task. But, I can't believe that we are unable to overcome even this petty thing. Are our 'issues'—some of them emerged out of nowhere, you must concede—_that_ severe?"

There was a transient silence, before Wrath spoke up, "I dunno."

I was getting increasingly provoked by his sheer indifference. "Aren't you the 'father'? Don't you have to know _something_? Or at the very least—since you give the least effort at parenting anyway—act like you do."

"Look here, runt," Wrath tiredly faced him, "in case you haven't noticed, I hate being your dad. I hate having to pretend to be your dad. You're the chief reason why I need beer, let's just be frank."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're the foremost reason I have psychic abilities"—I stopped for a bit to contemplate, pursing my lips—". . . actually, no, no, that's all me. But, I think, or at least, I can form a hypothesis on why I suddenly have this sharp foretelling skill. Maybe it was a side effect of when I was so startled by the sight of you and Mum getting all . . . intimate."

Displeased, Wrath arched his eyebrows. "Oi! Don't shove this all on _me_, now! And maybe you don't have psychic abilities in the first place? Maybe they're just wild dreams that miraculously have some truth in them, or you just have keen intuition so you can guess what's comin' next. But, don't give me no bull 'bout psychic chiz. Mm-mm, I don't have no patience for that."

"And you think _I_ have the patience for your exceedingly drunkard self? It's so annoying having to talk to some irresponsible father who's only sober half the time."

"Irresponsible!?" Wrath sprung to his feet.

"How nimble."

"Shut the eff up! Irresponsible? Who puts that roof over yo' head, boy? Who other than Führer Bradley? Have some respect, you lil' brat!"

"Or what? You're going to _kill_ me?" I mocked.

With imposing fierceness, he confessed, "You're seriously the worst 'son' there is, and I don't care all 'bout this bullcrap, I just want you out of my life. If only my wife—"

"If only Mother had some sense," I seethed, balling up my hands into fists, "she wouldn't have gotten married to _you_, you good-for-nothing toper."

"OK, for now, I'mma put aside the fact that I dunno what 'toper' is and I'm just gonna neatly take it as an insult. Well, guess what, bugger, you should really perform a reevaluation of yourself 'cuz you're nothing better to brag about. I never talk 'bout you at work or to any of my colleagues 'cuz you're, honestly, nothing but an embarrassment. Always pretending to be the good kid, it's sickening to watch. Only causin' trouble for my wife, and bringin' in the Homunculi without thought—"

"I'll tell you what I had thought. I had thought that if anything was to spiral out of control, _you'd_ at least would be there to offer some sort of guidance—"

Wrath stood up and flung his chair at the barred gate with vehemence. "Uh, things are pretty much _outta_ control now! We're effin' locked up _in a cell_—oh, wait, forgive me, Kimberly's Friendship Wenship Boxy Woxy—for crying out loud! We're being manipulated by this Kimberly therapist that thinks he knows what he's doing but, really, he's just dropping crap upon our heads like plop, plop! And, you're sayin' you were relying on _me_? Don't pull that bull on me, you're _Pride_. Stop tryna be _Selim_! You're not my son. I don't have a son! I _cannot_ have a son, which means you cannot have a mother. But _I_ sure do have a wife! She's _my_ family, not yours!"

The mic turned on.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt your suddenly very deep, emotional conversation that contradicts with the very nature of what has been going on," Kimblee said. "But the twenty-four hours are up. I will now announce the winners of the Kimblee's Friendship Game!

"This title is rewarded to the one and only pair that deserves this grand recognition! This will be presented to . . ."

"Bah, forget it," Wrath mumbled, dejected, "it's not gonna be us."

"The one and only!"

I could sense the relatively dense tension compacted in the atmosphere, sizzling down our necks, as everyone held in their breaths.

"Envy and Lust!"

"WHAT!?" everyone exclaimed, utterly flabbergasted by this staggering declaration.

"Indeed," Kimblee affirmed smoothly into the speakers. "While they were, let's say, _enjoying_ their times watching the three-hour long film of Dorés the Ishvalan Explorer over and over and _over_ again for about eight times, Lust realized that she is prettier than Dorés after staring at her for twenty-four hours, and consequently got over her insecurity with her appearance; Envy has gotten the film's script drilled into his mind eight times, so much that he can now recite the lines by heart, thus getting over his short-term memory problem. They have achieved their goals, in the end, after all. Congrats to the winners!"

"Didn't they break the rules, though?" Father inquired.

"Yeah, but almost everyone else did, too. What matters is getting over your issue."

"What the (bleep)!" Greed yelled, resentfully. "I thought me and Gluttony were gonna win! We got rid of each other's Temptations!"

"Yeah, but . . . everyone else achieved that, too."

"Oh, what? . . . Really? Oh, OK, I wasn't aware of that . . . since we're all in separate cells."

"You have yet to help each other expunge your issues," Kimblee said with wisdom. "And thus, the rest of you shall undergo the Ultimate Punishment. Prepare yourself."

* * *

><p><strong>Wrath's POV:<strong>

We all wanted to cry when we were, at long last, able to return to my mansion. I curled up in my bed, wrapped myself fixedly in my blanket, and shed a few, few manly tears. I was so depressed that I avoided my zombie games.

In the end, Kimblee gave me wine, but when I drank it, what slugged down my throat was critically spicy Jalapeño sauce; with its pungent stings, it neutralized all the taste buds of my tongue in one go. Greed was also subjected to agony in a similar manner: Kimblee cunningly enclosed him in a room filled with sweets—however, the sweets all contained a portion of hair and fur (belonging to whom or what, we still are not certain), and Greed _never_ regarded sweets in the same way again. Rumors claimed that Pride's brain was subdued and thoroughly fried, because he was given highly inappropriate, obscene, and lewd magazines to peruse, which ideally combated his foreshadowing tendencies as he never knew what to expect. Gluttony was put in a room with an abundance of food. The main problem was that there were other Gluttony dolls or something, and they all fought over the sustenance. It was only until Gluttony shouted that he did not want to fit in, did Kimblee permit him to leave. Father had his hair braided, and he was placed in a dark closet with only a mirror to keep him company. Very soon, he got creeped out my his own reflection, and was resolved to quit boasting about his superficial looks—that handled one issue, but I wasn't sure how that could get him to be one-polar or whatever (but then again, no one really cared to see to it a satisfying solution to this seemingly impossible matter).

As for my _wife_, she was "let off the hook." As stated by Kimblee, she eventually gained some self-assurance, and she even attempted to befriend Father—which was impracticable—hence she acquired a gold star sticker for participation. Kimblee concluded that it was not requisite to prompt her to renounce her anxiety, as he was positive that she will do as such once she spends more time with her family. She went back to knitting "united, happy, and harmonious," so I was not definite if she improved or garnered any sort of experience at all from this traumatizing event.

But, seriously, more about myself. I had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so unforgivably humiliated in my life. I swear, I would annihilate Kimblee the next time I catch sight of him.

However, as I was lying sleepily on my bed while planning my revenge, I failed to notice a forthcoming problem I should have foreseen: an odd emptiness beside me as well as a colossal shadow looming over me from behind.

And, yes, here comes the cliffhanger.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I apologize for the excessively lengthy chapter; I stuffed all of the extensive therapy parts into one chapter, so that for the next one, I can move on to what should be the final arc.****

******Next episode — What is that mysterious thing that hovers over Wrath? In addition, Kimblee has been quite careless! A distraught person can pinwheel into insanity at any given time. Beneath the frivolous times lies raw emotions! Tune in next time, as we stumble into the final arc!******

******Wrath: Watch, the author gave a cliffhanger, but the excitement will soon die out once they update in about a couple of years. You cannot just leave me hanging like this, while there's some creep staring at me sleep.******

******Pride: We got in a father-and-son bickering. This time, more serious than ever. Makes me kind of feel off.******

******Wrath: More importantly, some creep is staring at me sleep.******

******A/N: Just like Kimblee has said before, review, review! Be sure to play the Kimblee's Friendship Box Game with your friends and family, and prepare for an outburst or any cops within spitting distance. Thanks a bunch!******


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